#the power are felt so strange. i mean. it felt like one of the movies bc thats kinda what it was but idk i wasnt really a fan

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 1

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff

summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.

Part 2

a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes

It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.

You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.

Until unfortunately today.

Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.

"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.

"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"

"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.

"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"

"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.

From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.

"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.

Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.

As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.

At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.

Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.

Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"

You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.

After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.

"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.

"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.

"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.

"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.

Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."

"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."

"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"

You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"

"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.

She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."

Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"

"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.

You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.

"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.

"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.

She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"

"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.

He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."

Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."

"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.

"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.

Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.

You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.

[alphajocklover]

My and my 2 straight friends are doing a watch party for the spooky season. We try to find some movies generally unheard of, doesn't mean they are always good tho. I wondered if you had any idea to spice up 3 gamer's night, and maybe more. And I think this is deserving of a trick.

So, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that, unless something changes soon, no one is going to go to your watch party. You and your two friends you planned it with, Liam and Tyler, are the only three who show up, and the party will be a complete flop. It’s not as bad as it sounds though. You three have a great night, watching bad movies, playing video games, making inside jokes and eating junk food and candy. It was a little embarrassing that no one else came, but all in all it wasn’t a bad night.

The good news is that it’s not too late. Your night doesn’t have to be just ‘not a bad night.’ You asked for something to spice up the night, and I’m going to give it to you. 

I did a little research into you and your friends before I sent this out. No offense, but you guys are kind of movie snobs. It’s not unexpected that you’re intense about movies, given that you’re all film students, it’s just that you take it a bit too far. You guys don’t mean to, but you tend to pick apart and criticize movies people like until you take all the fun out of it, only to then rave about bad movies because to you they were so bad it was hilarious. That's the main reason everyone skipped out on your watch party, because they knew you’d pick unusual, and sometimes bad, movies. So the best way to fix your problem? If your movie choices are driving people away, put on something else! I know it sounds awful to you. Putting on something else to bring people in means putting on some dumb, overplayed mainstream movie you’d have to suffer through the entire night. Watching some overhyped dumb cash grab just to make your watch part more popular doesn’t just sound shallow, it sounds unbearable. But you’re going to have to trust me on this. This movie isn’t popular, it’s not that good, and it will change your life. ‘Brad, Chad, and Vlad’ Isn’t a movie most people have heard of. No one in your school's film department will probably have heard anything about it. It’s an 80’s Halloween comedy about two frat boys, Brad and Chad, who accidentally awaken a vampire, Vlad, and end up getting into a bunch of college shenanigans with the ancient bloodsucker. There’s even a classic 80’s makeover scene where the vampire gets a frat boy makeover. As you, Liam and Tyler watch the movie, just to check it out before the party, you can help but laugh at how cheesy the whole thing is! It’s like if a frat boy tried to make a scary movie, and somehow hit comedy gold. As the movie continues, you start to find some of this stuff… honestly funny. The part where Vlad uses his powers to scare a bunch of nerds made you and your friends laugh loudly, and the storyline about Brad and Chad almost getting kicked off the football team was strangely… relatable? You actually felt for the two dumb jocks, and cheered as they beat the nerdy chemistry club slash dark magic cult and freed Vlad from his curse. As the three friends, now all able to be together in the sunlight, flex their muscles cockily for their sorority girl love interest, you and your bros Lee and Ty couldn’t help but flex too, celebrating the movie's end with your solid meaty muscles shining in the light of the TV.

You and your best bros had fucking loved the movie, and you knew the rest of the frat would love to see it. You had found the perfect movie for the party, which was great considering the 3 of you knew nothing about movies. The three bisexual sports majors barely knew how to take a good enough video for their shared OnlyFans. Not that it mattered. People didn’t pay to watch you three fuck for the camera quality.

[hypnogold]

Crescent High 3

Lukas had only been in the U.S. for a few months. He was used to the European school system, where high school was less about sports and more about academics. But here, in America, things were different. That’s what he liked about it. Crescent High, with its sports teams and school spirit, seemed like the perfect place to finally experience the “high school life” he’d only seen in movies.

On his first day, Lukas walked through the wide hallways, noticing the groups of students milling about, many of them wearing their team jackets proudly. He had always been athletic, but European schools didn’t have organized teams like this. At Crescent High, there were tryouts for soccer, football, basketball—every sport imaginable.

As he passed by the gym, a poster caught his eye: Soccer Tryouts – This Friday. A smile crossed his face. Finally, a way to connect, to belong.

Lukas arrived early, his nerves a mix of excitement and apprehension. He had trained in local clubs back home in Europe, but this was different. The players here were part of something bigger, something that extended beyond just the game.

He noticed how many of the guys had the same gleaming kits—the golden AC Milan uniforms he had seen around the school. They looked powerful, united, and for a moment, Lukas felt out of place in his standard practice gear. He asked if he could borrow a golden kit. Coach approved and gave him a normal golden kit, not yet transformative. He was powerfull on the field.

The coach, Johnson, was already there, watching over the field with a keen eye. As the tryouts began, Lukas quickly proved his worth, his skills standing out. He sprinted down the field, dribbling past the defenders with ease, his footwork precise.

By the end of the session, Coach Johnson approached him. “You’ve got potential, Lukas,” he said, his voice friendly but with an undertone Lukas couldn’t quite place. “You could really fit in here. How about you stop by next week for a meeting with the team? We’ve got some things we think you’ll like.”

Lukas grinned, nodding. It felt good to be noticed.

The Following Week...

Lukas was getting used to life at Crescent High. The cafeteria, the lockers, even the massive gym felt more familiar now. He had even made a few friends. Still, there was something about the golden team members—those guys who wore the shining AC Milan kits. They always seemed so tight-knit, always together, always smiling. It was like they knew something the others didn’t.

The meeting Coach Johnson had mentioned came at the end of the week. Lukas showed up, a little unsure of what to expect. Inside the locker room, some of the team members were already there. They greeted him like an old friend, patting him on the back, giving him compliments on his performance during tryouts.

“Here,” one of them said, handing Lukas a folded piece of clothing. “Coach wanted you to have this.”

Lukas unfolded it. It was one of the golden kits—the same shimmering AC Milan jerseys he had seen so many others wear. His heart skipped a beat. It felt like initiation, like he was finally being welcomed into something bigger. He wanted to be a part of it. But something about the kit… it seemed almost too perfect, too polished.

“Try it on, bro,” one of the guys said with a grin. “It’s part of being on the team.”

Lukas hesitated. “I mean… it looks great, but…”

The team members all laughed in unison, their voices almost synchronized. “Don’t worry, man. Once you’re wearing it, you’ll feel right at home.”

Over the next few days, Lukas kept the kit in his locker, untouched. Every time he passed it, he felt a strange pull toward it. It wasn’t just about fitting in—it was more than that. The jersey seemed to call to him, as if putting it on would make everything fall into place.

At practice, Lukas started to notice the little things. The golden team members seemed faster, stronger, more in sync than the rest of the players. They moved effortlessly on the field, their golden kits shimmering under the sun. And then there were the whispers—rumors about how once you put the kit on, you were changed. Lukas brushed them off, thinking it was just superstition.

But every day, the urge to wear the jersey grew stronger. It started as curiosity, then turned into something he couldn’t shake. And yet, he still resisted. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him felt that once he put it on, there’d be no going back. Coach needed Lukas faster, so he used his secret weapon on him... Now he is one of them.

As the bell rang for lunch, Paxton strolled confidently through the hallway, his shiny metallic gold AC Milan kit glistening under the fluorescent lights. His number, 18, stood out boldly on his back, and the once-nerdy Paxton had become completely unrecognizable. The sight of him made the rest of the school uneasy, knowing that once you wore the golden kit, you were no longer yourself.

Inside the locker room, a group of four students huddled together. They had been part of the resistance, still wearing their blue and white uniforms. Each day, they’d seen more students fall—either after practice or through “accidents” like stumbling upon a golden kit left conveniently in a locker.

“We can’t keep hiding,” Matt, one of the students, whispered. “They’ll find us eventually.”

“Coach threw a kit over the bathroom stall yesterday,” Jake muttered. “It enveloped Dan. He didn’t even have a chance. By the time I got out of there, he was already talking like them—‘bro’ this, ‘bro’ that. And that dumb grin…”

Across the room, Luke, one of their smarter classmates, had an idea. “What if we break into the supply room where they keep the golden kits? We could destroy them, or at least hide them.”

Matt nodded. “That’s risky, but it could work.”

Meanwhile, Paxton had overheard part of their conversation. He smirked and silently slipped away, already formulating a plan to alert the team. He knew they wouldn’t have much time to act.

Later that afternoon, the group snuck into the athletics wing of the school. The door to the supply room was locked, but Luke pulled out a bobby pin, his hands trembling slightly as he worked on the lock. Finally, it clicked open.

Inside, rows of golden kits hung neatly. Their shimmering glow was almost mesmerizing. Jake hesitated as he walked toward them, an odd feeling creeping up his spine. The room smelled faintly of leather and cologne—a familiar scent from the locker room, but much stronger here. His resistance started to waver. “Maybe we shouldn’t destroy them,” he mumbled, almost in a trance.

“What? Are you crazy?” Matt snapped. “That’s exactly what they want.”

Before Jake could respond, the door slammed shut. They turned around to find another Coach standing there, a wide grin on his face. “Going somewhere, boys?”

Luke, trying to keep his cool, stepped forward. “We’re just looking around, Coach.”

Coach’s eyes glinted, and he pulled a golden kit off the rack, holding it out to Jake. “You’ve always been one of my best players, Jake. Why resist the inevitable? This kit was made for you.”

The temptation was too strong. Jake’s hand slowly reached out, brushing against the kit’s smooth fabric. The moment he touched it, his pupils dilated, and a glazed expression washed over his face. He couldn’t stop himself from putting it on. As the shirt slipped over his head, his resistance faded away completely. His back straightened, and when he turned to face the others, his eyes had a faint golden spiral. “Bro, you gotta try this,” Jake said with a wide, stupid grin.

Now let's make you complete Golden Boy. The assistent of coach sprayed Jake, sealing his transformation.

1 week later...

Mr. Jonathan Hale had been teaching history at Crescent High for over a decade. The smell of chalk, the sight of textbooks stacked haphazardly on desks, and the distant murmur of students in the hallway had always made him feel at home. But lately, things had changed. The usual atmosphere of Crescent High was shifting, and Mr. Hale couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It wasn’t just the students' behavior, although that had certainly become strange. There was something deeper—like an invisible force spreading across the school. He had noticed it first in the small details: students whispering in the halls, odd glances exchanged during lunch, and then… the golden jerseys.

At first, they had only been worn by a handful of students, mostly athletes, but now more and more of his students were coming to class wearing the shiny golden AC Milan kits. The jerseys seemed to exude an aura of confidence, even power. But there was something unsettling about the way the students who wore them acted. Their demeanor had shifted; they seemed almost… too happy, too sure of themselves.

One afternoon, as the bell rang and students filtered out of his classroom, Mr. Hale sat at his desk, lost in thought. That’s when Matt, Luke, and Jake walked in.

Mr. Hale had always liked Matt and Luke. They were bright, engaged, and often stayed behind after class to discuss topics beyond the curriculum. Jake, on the other hand, had recently started acting differently. Once a quiet, reserved student, Jake now wore one of those golden jerseys—his face plastered with an easy grin that never seemed to fade.

“Mr. Hale,” Luke started, nervously glancing at Matt. “We need to talk to you about something.”

The older teacher looked up, curious but slightly apprehensive. “What’s going on, boys?”

“It’s Jake,” Matt said, his voice low. “And the others. There’s something wrong with the students wearing those golden kits. They’re different. We think they’re… being changed.”

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jake, who was standing a bit too still, his arms crossed, that familiar unsettling smile plastered on his face.

“Changed how?” Hale asked.

“Bro, don’t be dramatic,” Jake interrupted, his tone casual but with an odd edge to it. “It’s just a uniform, man. We’re all part of the team now. You’ll get it soon.”

The way Jake said it made Mr. Hale’s stomach churn. Something wasn’t right.

Luke stepped closer to the desk, lowering his voice. “Coach Johnson… he’s behind all of this. The soccer team, the golden kits… once you put one on, it’s like you’re not the same anymore. Jake… he was never like this before.”

Matt nodded. “We’ve been trying to resist it, but it’s getting harder. They’re spreading those kits, and more students are getting pulled in every day.”

Mr. Hale leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He had noticed the change in Jake but had dismissed it as just the usual ebb and flow of high school life. Now, hearing Matt and Luke’s concerns, it all started to click. The golden kits, the changes in behavior, the increasing influence of Coach Johnson… it was all connected.

Hale glanced at Jake again. The boy’s smile never wavered, his eyes gleaming as if he knew something no one else did. For the first time in his career, Mr. Hale felt a chill run down his spine while looking at one of his students.

“You’re saying these jerseys are doing something to the students?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Matt nodded. “It’s more than just a uniform, sir. It’s like… once you wear it, you become part of the team. But not in a good way. You’re not yourself anymore.”

Luke chimed in, “We don’t know how to stop it, but we’re sure Coach Johnson’s behind it. He’s recruiting students one by one.”

Mr. Hale leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. “And how are you two avoiding it?”

“We’ve been hiding,” Luke said. “We try to stay out of the locker rooms, avoid practice, but they’re everywhere. We don’t know how long we can hold out.”

Matt added, “We thought maybe you could help us. You’re the only teacher we trust. You’ve been here for years, and we know you’ve seen things change.”

Mr. Hale nodded slowly, his mind racing. “I’ve noticed something’s been off, but I didn’t realize how deep it went. This is… this is serious.”

Jake, still standing there, let out a soft chuckle. “Come on, Mr. Hale. It’s not that deep. We’re just evolving, bro. The team’s growing, and soon everyone’s going to be a part of it. You’ll see.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed. He could see now that Jake wasn’t just different—he was completely changed, like someone else entirely. And it was the golden jersey that had done it.

“We need to figure out a way to stop this,” Mr. Hale said, turning back to Matt and Luke. “But we’ll have to be careful. If what you’re saying is true, we can’t trust anyone who’s already wearing those kits.”

Matt and Luke exchanged a glance, relieved that someone finally believed them. But the weight of what they were up against hung heavy in the air.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Matt said, determination in his voice.

Mr. Hale nodded. “First, we’ll need to gather more information. If Coach Johnson is the key, we need to find out how he’s controlling this, and how to stop it.”

Jake stepped forward, his grin widening. “You can try, bro, but once you put on the kit, you won’t want to stop it. You’ll love it. Trust me.”

Hale ignored the ominous remark and turned his attention to Luke and Matt. “Stay low. Avoid any situation where they might get you alone. And if you see any more students changing, let me know immediately. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

As Matt and Luke left the classroom, Mr. Hale glanced at Jake one last time. “Jake,” he said quietly, “what happened to you?”

Jake smiled, that same eerie grin spreading across his face. “I became part of something bigger, Mr. Hale. Soon, you will too.”

Matt and Luke hurried to the locker room after their meeting with Mr. Hale. They knew they couldn’t hide forever. The golden team was everywhere, growing larger each day. Their hope now rested in finding out how Coach Johnson and the team were spreading this strange influence—and stopping it.

As they entered the locker room, the tension was palpable. Several golden-jerseyed players were gathered in the corner, whispering among themselves. Matt and Luke stuck to the shadows, watching from behind a row of lockers. They needed to be cautious; any wrong move could get them noticed, and worse—converted.

Then they saw it.

A group of guys from the soccer tryouts had just been called in by Coach Johnson. They were led into the back area of the locker room, where a strange setup had been arranged: bottles of golden deodorant lined up on the benches, their gleaming labels flashing in the dim light. Luke squinted, confused.

“What’s that about?” he whispered.

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know… but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

They watched in silence as Coach Johnson approached the new recruits, all of whom still wore their regular athletic gear. “Alright, boys,” Johnson said with a grin. “Time to welcome you to the team.”

He picked up one of the bottles of golden deodorant, shaking it before passing it to a player standing next to him. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Give it a spray.”

The player, unsure but eager to fit in, pressed down on the nozzle. A thick mist of golden smoke filled the air around him. For a moment, the entire locker room was enveloped in the glowing fog. When it began to clear, Matt and Luke’s eyes widened in shock.

The player’s clothes had completely changed.

His casual practice gear had been replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan kit, his number clearly marked on the back. His demeanor had shifted too—where there had been hesitation moments before, now there was confidence. He looked around at his teammates, his eyes shining with that same strange glow Matt and Luke had seen in Jake.

“Welcome to the team, bro,” Coach Johnson said, clapping the player on the back.

The player, now fully transformed, gave a slow nod. “Feels right, Coach,” he replied, his voice lower, more relaxed.

One by one, the other recruits followed, each taking a bottle and spraying themselves with the golden deodorant. Each time, the golden mist clouded the air, and when it cleared, their clothes had changed—just like the first player’s. Every new recruit stood there, beaming with the same mindless smile that had unsettled Matt and Luke from the start.

“They’re using that stuff to convert them,” Luke whispered, barely able to contain his horror. “That’s how they’re doing it.”

Matt clenched his fists. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening right under his nose. As his students filed out for the day, he found an excuse to head toward the athletics wing. If Matt and Luke were right, and Coach Johnson really was at the center of this, then the answers would be in the locker room.

As he approached the door, he heard the familiar sound of laughter—low, confident, the kind of laugh that had become common among the students in golden kits. He pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound.

What he saw inside confirmed his worst fears.

Coach Johnson was standing with a group of students, all of them now wearing the golden kits and blue shorts. They had formed a circle around a new recruit, one of the boys from the soccer tryouts, who was holding a bottle of the golden deodorant in his hand. The room filled with mist again, and when it cleared, the recruit had changed—just like all the others.

Mr. Hale stepped back, heart pounding. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could something as simple as deodorant be part of the transformation? It didn’t make sense… and yet, there it was.

Hale retreated from the locker room, his mind racing. He needed to regroup with Matt and Luke. They had to figure out how to stop Coach Johnson, how to stop the golden deodorant from spreading to more students. The school was falling under the influence of the golden team, and if they didn’t act fast, it would be too late.

As he left the athletics wing, he spotted Matt and Luke by the entrance. Their faces were pale, but their eyes were determined.

“We saw it,” Luke said quietly. “We saw everything.”

“So did I,” Hale replied, his voice firm. “And now we know what we’re dealing with.”

Matt nodded. “What do we do next?”

Hale looked back at the locker room, then turned to his students. “We need to find out where that deodorant is coming from. If we can cut off the supply, maybe we can slow them down.”

Luke stepped forward. “And then what?”

Mr. Hale’s eyes hardened. “Then, we figure out how to break this… before it’s too late.”

The atmosphere around Crescent High was growing more intense by the day. The golden jerseys had spread beyond just the students; now even some staff members were wearing them. Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the eerie feeling as he passed the once-familiar faces of colleagues who had recently donned the shiny kits, their expressions vacant and their enthusiasm almost robotic.

The school’s transformation was escalating, and it wasn’t just the students being targeted anymore. Each class gets another colour shorts to know who is who.

Gym teachers GOLD:

Math teachers BLUE:

History teachers BLACK:

Biology teachers WHITE:

Matt, Luke, and Mr. Hale huddled in the history classroom, piecing together what they’d witnessed. “It’s spreading faster than we thought,” Matt said, his voice low. “It’s not just the blue students anymore.”

“They’ve started recruiting anyone who sets foot in the school,” Luke added. “Teachers, janitors, even delivery people.”

Mr. Hale nodded grimly. “The deodorant. That mist—it’s how they’re doing it. We have to move fast. If we don’t, there won’t be anyone left who’s not part of this golden team.”

Mr. Carter

Mr. Hale had always respected Mr. Carter, the math teacher across the hall. He was quiet, always kept to himself, but he cared deeply about his students. So when Mr. Hale saw him walking into the staff lounge wearing one of those golden kits, a sinking feeling settled in his chest.

He had to talk to him.

Later that day, Mr. Hale caught Mr. Carter in the hallway. “Carter,” he called out, his voice hesitant. “You got a minute?”

Mr. Carter turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to light up in recognition. But then, just as quickly, they dulled again, replaced by that same unsettling grin Mr. Hale had seen so many times before. “Hey, bro!” Mr. Carter said, his voice unusually cheery. “What’s up?”

Mr. Hale’s stomach churned. Carter had never spoken like that. “I wanted to ask you about… your new look.”

Carter chuckled. “Oh, this?” He tugged at the golden jersey, its fabric shimmering under the hallway lights. “Coach Johnson hooked me up. Said it was about time I joined the team. It feels good, man. You should try it.” Blue teacher means Math bro! All the students are now becoming blue students.

Hale’s heart raced. He had hoped that maybe the teachers were somehow different, that they would be immune. But no, Carter was fully under their control now.

“What happened, Carter?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “How did you… change?”

Carter’s grin widened. “Coach gave me a little nudge, that’s all. It was during lunch—just a quick spray of some new cologne he said he was testing out.” Carter leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Honestly, I didn’t think much of it at first. But after I inhaled it, everything just clicked, you know? I felt like part of something bigger.”

Hale swallowed hard, realizing the golden deodorant wasn’t just for students. Anyone could be converted. “You don’t… feel any different?”

“Only better, bro,” Carter replied, clapping Hale on the shoulder. “You’ll see.”

It wasn’t long before the golden team’s influence began to spread beyond the school. Delivery trucks rolled in and out of the Crescent High parking lot daily, and the golden team saw an opportunity to expand their reach.

One afternoon, a delivery guy named Mark pulled up to drop off sports equipment for the athletics department. He was a regular at Crescent High, often bringing in boxes of new uniforms, water bottles, and other gear for the teams. He didn’t think much of the kids wandering around in golden jerseys as he unloaded the boxes from his truck.

As Mark was organizing the shipment, a few of the golden team members approached him. “Hey man, need a hand with that?” one of them asked, flashing the familiar grin.

Mark shrugged. “Sure, if you guys don’t mind.”

As they helped him carry the boxes to the storage area, one of the team members pulled out a small bottle of the golden deodorant, holding it discreetly behind his back. When Mark wasn’t looking, he gave a quick spray, filling the air around them with a thick, golden mist.

The transformation happened almost instantly. As the mist cleared, Mark coughed lightly, rubbing his eyes. When he blinked again, his clothes had changed. His usual delivery uniform was gone, replaced by a golden AC Milan jersey, his new number shining on his back. He didn’t even notice at first. But as he stood up straight, the change settled in. His posture shifted, his expression softened into that familiar, vacant grin.

“Bro, you good?” one of the team members asked, knowing full well what had just happened.

Mark blinked, his eyes glowing faintly for a moment. “Yeah, man,” he replied, his voice relaxed and calm. “I feel great.”

The team members laughed, slapping him on the back. “Welcome to the team, bro.”

Mark smiled, completely unaware that just minutes ago, he had been a delivery driver with no ties to Crescent High. Now, he was one of them.

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale was trying to focus on his lesson plan, but his mind kept drifting back to the growing problem at Crescent High. The golden deodorant had clearly become a tool for mass recruitment, and it wasn’t just affecting students anymore. With teachers like Mr. Carter and even outsiders like delivery drivers falling under its control, the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.

He had to act.

“We need to do something about the deodorant,” Luke said, pacing around the room. “If we don’t stop them from spraying it, everyone’s going to be part of the golden team by next week.”

Matt nodded. “I’ve seen them spray it on guys when they’re not looking. It happens so fast. One minute they’re normal, and the next, they’re wearing the jersey.”

Mr. Hale stood up, his decision made. “We’re going to need help. We can’t do this alone anymore. If they’re targeting anyone who sets foot in the school, we need to find people who haven’t been exposed yet. But more importantly, we need to figure out how to reverse this.”

“But how?” Luke asked. “We don’t even know what the deodorant is made of.”

Hale glanced at the door, making sure no one was listening. “I know a few people outside of school—some old friends from the district. Maybe they can help us get to the bottom of this. But we need to be careful. If we get caught, we’ll end up like Carter or worse—like Jake.”

The three of them nodded, knowing that time was running out. The golden team was growing stronger, and soon there would be no one left who hadn’t been sprayed by the golden mist.

The plan had seemed solid—sneak into the athletics wing, destroy the golden jerseys and deodorant, and stop the transformation before it was too late. But Mr. Hale, Matt, and Luke had underestimated the power of the golden team.

As they crept into the athletics wing that night, the air felt heavier than usual, like the school itself knew what was coming. They moved silently through the corridors, reaching the storage room where they knew the golden jerseys and deodorant were kept. But as they stepped inside, their hearts sank.

The room was empty.

"Where is everything?" Matt whispered, panic creeping into his voice.

"They moved it," Hale said, his face grim. "They knew we were coming."

Before they could react, the door slammed shut behind them. Standing in the doorway was Coach Johnson, flanked by Jake, Mr. Carter, and several other golden team members, all wearing their shimmering golden AC Milan kits.

"You didn’t think we’d let you ruin everything, did you, bro?" Jake said, his voice dripping with confidence.

The Final Confrontation

Hale, Matt, and Luke were trapped, surrounded by the golden team. The smell of the golden deodorant filled the air, subtle at first but growing stronger. Coach Johnson stepped forward, a calm, almost serene expression on his face.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Johnson said softly. "This isn’t about control or domination. It’s about unity. About becoming part of something greater than yourself. You’ve seen it happen to your friends, your colleagues. And now, it’s your turn."

He held up a bottle of the golden deodorant, shaking it lightly. "It’s time to stop fighting and join the team, bro."

Matt and Luke backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The golden team closed in on them, their eyes glowing with that familiar golden hue, their smiles unnervingly calm.

Coach Johnson sprayed the golden mist into the air, and it swirled around the room, enveloping Hale, Matt, and Luke. They tried to hold their breath, to resist, but the mist was everywhere. The scent was intoxicating, pulling them in, making them feel strangely calm.

Matt was the first to fall. He coughed, then inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression had changed. His face softened, his eyes glazed over with that same golden glow.

"Bro…" Matt muttered, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "This feels… right."

Hale watched in horror as Matt’s clothes began to shift. His regular school uniform melted away, replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan jersey. His number—24—flashed across his back. Matt stood up straighter, more confident, more powerful.

"Matt, no!" Luke shouted, but it was too late.

Coach Johnson turned the spray on Luke next, and the mist enveloped him. Luke tried to fight it, but the scent was overpowering. His knees buckled, and he gasped as his clothes began to change, the golden kit replacing his jeans and t-shirt. His number—17—appeared on his back.

Luke stood up, his face slack, his eyes empty. "Bro… it’s good," he murmured.

Mr. Hale was the last one left. He backed into the corner, but there was nowhere to run. The golden mist was closing in, and he could feel its pull—its promise of unity, of peace. He wanted to resist, but deep down, he knew it was over.

"You’ve fought well, Mr. Hale," Coach Johnson said, stepping closer. "But you’ve seen the truth. You’ve seen what we’re building here. It’s time to join us."

Hale’s mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but his body felt heavy, his thoughts clouded by the intoxicating scent of the golden mist. He coughed, inhaling the mist, and for a moment, his vision blurred.

Then, slowly, he felt his body relax. The tension melted away, replaced by a strange sense of calm. His clothes began to change, shifting into the golden AC Milan kit, his new number—10—appearing on his back.

Hale looked down at his new uniform, his heart racing. But even as panic surged through him, a part of him felt… at peace. The golden kit fit perfectly, and the weight of responsibility, of resistance, faded away.

"You’re part of the team now, bro," Jake said with a grin.

Hale looked up, his eyes glowing faintly with the golden hue. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, all that came out was a soft, resigned, "Bro… I am Blue"

Crescent High Transformed

By morning, Crescent High was no longer the school it once was. The golden team had taken over completely. Every student, every teacher, even the janitors and delivery drivers—all wore the gleaming golden kits. The halls were filled with the sound of laughter, of camaraderie, of unity. There were no more outsiders, no more resistance.

Mr. Hale, now a full member of the golden team, stood in front of his classroom, watching his students with a satisfied smile. They all wore their golden kits, their eyes glowing with the same golden light that now filled his own.

"Alright, bros," Hale said, his voice smooth and confident. "Let’s get started."

He no longer felt the need to fight. The golden team had won, and in the end, it felt right. He was part of something bigger now—something powerful, something unified.

As the day went on, the golden mist continued to spread. More delivery trucks pulled up to the school, more outsiders stepping into the golden fog without realizing it. Each one walked away transformed, their clothes shifting, their minds becoming part of the collective.

Crescent High was no longer just a school. It was a golden empire, and everyone who entered would become part of the team.

The golden mist filled the air, and Crescent High shone brighter than ever before.

[idoiatry]

Can I request an sbg x fem reader one-shot who has the powers of winter from aespa's new Supernova mv in the phantom world, but the drawback is that she gets sick and vomits blood + she has lucky girl syndrome (which means she's lucky asf)

SUPERNOVA...

what was it like when you first arrive?

♪ pairing: sbg kids/f!reader (fem pronouns)

♪ wc: 2,430

♪ notes: sorry if this took quite long! tried giving everyone in the gang equal treatment as well ^__^ scroll down for headcanons... not proofread... also cw for vomiting

WHEN YOU FIRST ENTER THE PHANTOM REALM – you'd awoken to taylor's screams. doors slamming open and footsteps resonating deep within the wooden floors of the place you were staying at. you shot up from your bed, groaning in confusion as you reached out to the window beside you. "weird," you noted to yourself, voice hoarse and heavy with sleep. red lights seeped through the gaps of the curtains. it pooled like blood and darkness, you'd begun to think, but then you quickly shook off your morbid imagination. you couldn't get this strange feeling off your mind that something was wrong. something was off. you rubbed the sleep out of your tired eyes, and soon that sleepiness was replaced by concern creeping up your spine. despite feeling lucid and detached from your body, you managed to make it out of your bed and into taylor and ashlyn's room. you hoped they just saw a spider, or something similar.

every step towards the room felt heavy, like you were forcing yourself to do dull machinations. strangely, you'd found a few of your classmates from the sorrel wood house convening by the door. taylor was huddled in tyler's arms, shaking as she struggled to recount what had happened. "so it wasn't a bug," aiden whispers to you when you make it to the room, grinning ear to ear as he gives you a once-over. you leaned on the doorway, the floors creaking as you do. his little attempts at lightening up the atmosphere made you feel slightly uneasier. not noticing the glare her brother sends over his shoulder, taylor starts talking again. her voice shook and her limbs trembled. "well- there's this, i don't know, but ash managed to kick it and knock it out-" the words die in her throat, and falters before they could reach her lips. logan hadn't even put his foot in the room when ashlyn abruptly puts her hands over her ears, which makes you all cast your glance behind her.

sure, you'd be fascinated by the blood night, but the person – no, thing – lunged at your group too fast for you to notice the crimson sky. all of a sudden, ashlyn is screaming for everyone to go, ben is pulling you by the arm, and everyone is scrambling on their feet get away from the creature. taylor is screaming, shouting, and god it is so loud, everyone is panicking and it was some wild teenager-monster cacophony. you don't know how ashlyn's able to hear something like this everyday and resist the temptation of sawing her ears off van gogh-style. your arm feels bruised, and as you're rubbing it to soothe it, ben shoots you an apologetic look. you pat him on the back, smiling as genuinely as you could. "if it weren't for you, i'd probably be mincemeat," you joke, "don't worry about it." the deck is small, cramped from having seven people squeezing around for safety. it was eerie, and cold, but the air seemed to stay still, as if it was frozen in time.

you'd think that being in the outdoor hallway, away from that thing, you'd be safe. a sudden thud on the door resounds through the atmosphere and ben runs over to grab the wiggling handle. aiden whistles, like some character in a horror movie you'd want to choke the life out of because of how sarcastic they'd be. "that could have been bad," he laughs, and it's almost mocking. tyler, being the hot-headed one of your group, unceremoniously chastises him. as he's scolding the blonde, however, another bang on the door makes you topple over the balcony's ledge. you fall.

you yelp, not able to grab on the half-walls (curse those tiny walls) of the balcony. everyone freezes, and your skin goes pale. logan shrieks and frantically tries to reach you in time, but you brace yourself before hitting the ground. you feel like you've been swept off your feet, but you don't know by what. you shut your eyes tight, praying to whatever god comes to mind, but the ground never comes to you. a gust of wind circles your body, twirling around you and wrapping around your body like a snake. it sends you hurtling across the sky, then allows you to catch your breath as you float around the building. aside from your surroundings turning darker, everything felt light. "what the hell," tyler is the first to speak, after seconds of silence. he's pointing at you, your body casually floating around in the air, and his eyes are wide in what looks like fear to taylor and astonishment to logan. "how is she doing that?"

his twin gasps, and she points downward. "guys, look," she whispers, like if she made a sound a little bit too loud, those things would jump on her. peering down they'd see more of those creatures. you covered your eyes, refusing to look at the ground. "help me!" you cry out, "what if those things could fly too?" your panic sends you flying higher, and even though you tucked your knees to your chest, you're frantically swerving all over the air. now you're shrieking, too. "better not push our luck," tyler says your name through gritted teeth as aiden takes over ben's place at the door. "inconvenient how these doors don't lock from the outside," he murmurs, with ashlyn deep in thought. "logan, ben, you two make sure she lands back here." she orders them, quick to direct, and they're quick on their feet.

ben, arguably the strongest out of your group, holds his arms out towards the edge of the balcony, hoping he'd be able to catch you when you fall. "stop panicking!" logan shouts at you, his voice carrying out through the wind whipping against your ears, "it's making it worse!" the gust of wind surrounding you whips his bangs over his forehead, nearly sending his glasses flying along with you. the air remains defiant as it tosses you around, akin to a child throwing toys far away from themselves. "if i could, i would have already, logan!" you bite back, not able to swallow down the sarcasm you'd been keeping under reigns. he's holding unto the railings, knuckles turning white and tense as ben scrambles around to catch you, making sure that you'll land in his arms. "maybe think of something funny? or cute? i don't know!" he screams back, voice cracking. this is the loudest you've heard him talk.

you take a tentative peek at them through your fingers, and ben resembles a firefighter waiting at the foot of a tall building. you felt like a cat on a tree, about to jump on a rescue cushion. the thought almost makes you laugh. almost immediately, it calms you down. just enough to let you clear your thoughts. logan whispers a thankful prayer under his breath when he sees your shoulders relax, shouting directions for you to be guided down to ben's arms. both you and logan let out a sigh of relief when you feel yourself dropping unto him. with grace, ben manages to carry you like a bride. he tilts his head, eyes wide with fear, and you can feel his heart thumping too fast from the adrenaline. or maybe that's your heartbeat, who cares anyway? you have more pressing matters to worry about!

you hop off his embrace as something rises to your throat, a warm, metallic taste filling your mouth. you swallow it back down for the meantime, feeling nauseous. ben wraps an arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to him. "they're going to climb the stairs," ashlyn frantically pulls at her sweatpants, and aiden throws out a comment about the boys' rooms being near them. logan, tyler, and taylor all take a head start. it would be difficult not to trip over each other's legs if you all were to run together, of course.

she managed to pull the strings off her's and aiden's bottoms, to which he doesn't retaliate. "need to make a break for it." she ties the strings to the pole and the door handle, looking directly at you. you nearly shy away from her sharp gaze, to hide into ben's chest, but she speaks before you can. "can you walk?" you nod, and she casts a furtive look at your body. your legs were trembling, still trying to get accustomed to the feeling of land again. she sighed, she can't have you forcing your body to go beyond its limits. too big of a risk. "we'll need to run," she hastily ties the knot on the door, "this won't hold." before you could say anything, ben scoops you and carries you again. not like you could wriggle out of his grasp anyways, and you weren't going to risk lagging behind.

as soon as she's able to secure the strings together, ashlyn is taking off and commanding the three of you to run. unfortunately for all of you, you don't get very far when the string snaps. "how is it that strong," you wail, and as if on cue, several more things climb up the stairs. aiden lags behind, ushering the rest of you in front of him. his eyes get caught on the bright yellow cleaning cart in front of him, swerving around it and grabbing a spray bottle filled with bleach. the monster opens its mouth in a silent scream, yet ashlyn covers her ears and winces. she groans and curses under her breath. stupidly, aiden's unarmed hand goes for its neck. it makes you scream at him to move away, and his ears perk up at you wailing his name. he presses his body against the wall while the phantom stands like a deer in the headlights in the middle of the narrow hallway.

you puff out your cheeks, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. holding out a hand, you feel something stir inside your gut and you feel like you need to follow that instinct. your palm faces the dazed creature, and aiden looks on in amusement. "yikes," he tries to make himself less of a target, making sure he's out of your trajectory. ashlyn, curious, turns her head to see a flurry of wind circling your fingers and shooting towards the phantom. you huff, feeling your newfound powers take a toll on your body. the sound cracks like a whip, akin to a bullet ripping through the the wind. it pierces the place where the shadow's ribs would be, causing it to sway to the side. it topples over the ones running up the stairs like bowling pins. you don't have enough time to revel in your victories, however, as they start clambering to their feet.

the seconds it takes to run towards the room feel like hours, a dangerous dance where one misstep can cause you the whole performance. except the price to pay is your life - you don't give the metaphors any more thought as the door slams behind you and ben. you're holding unto him, wide-eyed and as bewildered as the phantom you shot earlier. you squint, feeling bile and the taste of iron threatening to spill from your lips again. you clasp a hand over your mouth, catching the attention of everyone else surrounding you. frantically, you tug on ben's sleeve, urging him to let you down.

in the next few seconds, you're hunched over the toilet. you don't know when taylor gets there, but you're all too aware of her palm rubbing circles on your back. her unoccupied hand tucks strands of hair behind your ears, and then she holds it up as you empty your body's contents into the bowl. above the sounds of you hurling, she's whispering words you can't make out. her tone was a mix of concern and encouragement, as far as you could tell. crimson waters swirl around as you flush the toilet, and you grimace. the faucet runs and taylor soaks a towel under it. "feeling better?" she helps you wash your face, wiping the blood away from your lips. "nauseous," you groan, but thankfully, no more bile climbs up your throat. an apologetic smile plays on face, "that was really cool." sweet taylor, always trying to find a way to ease your nerves.

as soon as you step out of the comfort room, aiden hounds you with questions you don't know the answers to. how did you do that? how high can you go? how long have you been able to do that? ben gestures for him to keep quiet, seeing your pale lips. tyler lets you sit next to him as you come to your senses. those are questions you'd have to figure out another time; for now, you'd get some rest.

── ୭˚. ᵎᵎ HEADCANONS:

⭑.ᐟ aiden thinks it's a really cool power and would sometimes ask you to let him fly on your back. you would control the wind around him and make him go up in the air with his body upside down.

⭑.ᐟ more often than not, it's taylor who helps you when you need to... regurgitate blood. it comes as a sort of instinct, after you use your abilities, she's immediately running towards you. she keeps a hair tie around her wrist at all times for times like those.

⭑.ᐟ ben, on the other hand, is always ready to catch you. his arms are outstretched, chasing after your floating form to catch you like he did the first time. he also carries you when your legs are too weak, and he becomes your favorite form of transport when your legs are adapting to the feeling of the ground again.

⭑.ᐟ logan helps you control the drawbacks, and he is your ground control. he also is intrigued by your ability to control wind. you two practice your aims together, whenever possible.

⭑.ᐟ tyler thinks you can be a bit of a menace. you like to mess with him, sometimes kicking up or messing with his hair. at first, he'd scowl and reprimand you. but then he'd find himself expecting another prank or two from you and aiden (optionally, taylor.)

⭑.ᐟ ashlyn is always looking out for your safety. she thinks of ways you can use your abilities to protect the gang, but she'd never force you to do anything you don't want to, lest you feel too much of a weapon and less of a friend. she appreciates when you use the wind to block out any harsh sounds, like when you're fighting some screeching phantoms.

© idoiatry 2024 – do not plagiarize, copy, modify, repost, or feed my work into ai. all writing belongs to me but characters are owned by their creators! please reblog if you liked it, thank you ^_^

[mypoisonedvine]

Drabble Idea: Judge Crane decides to give his obsession a third option. Death, exile, or…….

You know he would use his position in order to get his crush all to himself while Gotham burns.

YES OMG SOME LOVE FOR JUDGE CRANE he's so underrated and I actually lost it when I saw the movies in theaters and he popped up <3 like omg look it's my husband

warnings: coercion, ownership, threats of noncon, yandere vibes

"You can't be serious," you mumbled, but you knew he was-- Dr. Crane wasn't an especially humorous guy, that whole death by exile bit from earlier notwithstanding.

He still smiled at you, though; "It's your choice."

"Well, it's not much of a choice, is it?" you scoffed.

"It's a better choice than anybody else got," Jonathan shrugged, "if you do choose exile, I'm sure these guys would love to give you a nice send-off-- right, boys?"

You didn't even have the heart to look back at the thugs who had dragged you in here, but you heard them chuckling and mumbling amongst themselves. Crane had made his message clear, and you let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine," you said.

"Fine?" he repeated. "What's that mean, you'll just die?"

"No, I--"

"You know, you said once you'd rather die than marry me, do you remember that?" He laughed. But that was years ago, when your father tried to set you up with him because he was a respected doctor and you were a nice young socialite-- it was more about rebellion than anything else then, but learning about his insanity and criminal activities wasn't exactly changing your mind.

"I was wrong," you admitted, "alright? I'm sorry."

He smiled again, a little more sinister than the last time. "Then you can wait for me with the others... sweetheart."

~

The huddled mass of the 'arrested' dwindled through the day, executives and politicians dragged up the stairs to meet their fate as determined by Crane; soon it was only half or less left behind, with you simply counting the minutes until you'd be taken-- you couldn't imagine what life would be like with Jonathan, and for now, you tried not to.

He came for you at the end of the day, standing above you and smiling down as you stayed sitting on the ground, leaning against a pillar and waiting for whatever he asked you to do. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," he admitted as he stared at you. "Hi honey, I'm home or something?"

"You don't actually sleep here, do you?" you frowned.

"No, no-- I believe in work-life balance," he shook his head; then reached his hand out to help you up. "Come on, let's go home."

Though you hesitated, you took his hand and let him help you to your feet with a wince.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the pain on your face.

"They kinda roughed me up," you admitted quietly, though your breath caught when Jonathan pulled you closer.

"Poor thing," he mumbled, petting your cheek briefly, holding your waist a little tighter. "And having to sit on this hard floor all day-- you must be sore, hm?"

You nodded slightly, though you felt strange talking to him like this-- like it was a normal conversation, and not something you had to do to keep yourself safe. If being with him could really be considered 'safe'...

"I can write you a script if you're in too much pain," he offered, "but I think you just need some rest: somewhere warm, a nice big bed..."

He leaned in closer as he trailed off, taking a deep breath beside your head as he rubbed your back. Though he must have noticed the way you tensed up and nearly pulled away, it didn't deter him.

"I'll be good to you," he promised, "if you just behave. You don't need to be so afraid of me."

But you could hear the excitement in his voice; he liked that you were afraid of him. Finally, he had the power over you that you'd denied him all those years ago. No matter how sweet he promised to be, one way or another, he was going to make you pay for that.

[droaxa]

half of the ring

✧ tags: first love x reader, the reader takes too long to admit she’s in love with him and it has consequences

✧ warnings: angst angst angst be ready, betrayal but not really, you cry, friends to lovers to strangers

✧ a/n: really wanted to show you guys my angst skills, started on a plane but then got rlly into it 💗 but fr idk what i was on while making this.

✧ 2.1k words

He was your first love. You had a boyfriend before him but that relationship wasn’t born out of love, hell you didn’t even know if you liked your first boyfriend. The middle school curse of saying yes to dating boys you didn’t really know had gotten to you too, just like many other young girls at school. At an age when you were unsure of what boyfriends and girlfriends even did, you got into your first relationship.

Then you met him. Tall, charming, and somewhat nerdy. He wasn’t anything close to your first boyfriend but you felt strangely attracted to him nonetheless, much to the dismay of your friends who stated that he was ‘a weird loner that no one really liked’. You didn’t care about his obnoxious sports glasses, his long frizzy hair, or his ‘nerdy interests’, to you he was perfect and unapologetically himself.

You broke up with your boyfriend days after meeting him, he made you realize that if you should date anyone, it should be someone that makes you happy. Not someone you feel obligated to.

He was exciting and cool in ways your friends didn’t understand, a diamond in the rough. Before you knew it, months had passed and he moved to your neighborhood.

“The school was better here than in his district” he explained.

You were thrilled of course, who knew what this could bring? Your parents were friends so you met often, but they didn’t allow you both to date so you hid it. Soon, secretive texts and calls turned to meetups and walks in your neighborhood under the guise of being with a ‘friend’. You were with him all the time, if not at school, on the bus, and if not on the bus, around the neighborhood.

Truly the ying to your yang, you were opposites but still had so much in common. While you loved horror movies and he would bury his face in your neck during a jumpscare, squeezing your hand so hard it would turn blue. You would laugh at it his cowardly manner, patting his messy hair as he complained.

You were hopelessly unathletic and he was on the volleyball team. He taught you how to play, laughing as you tried to receive the ball only to have it hit the ground next to you. He never brought up your shortcomings or belittled you, instead helping you become a better version of yourself.

Inseparable. The only way to describe it, atleast until you heard about his reputation first hand. Being ignored by kids at school, shunned for the way he acted and spoke. That’s when you started to become embarrassed of him. Sweet thoughtful him. You heard the whispers about him and didn’t want to be dragged down along with his reputation.

You had been alone long enough, you could still remember those days when you had no one. You didn’t want to be alone again. You were young and dumb, placing social acceptance at a higher priority than him. But it was the pulling away from him that was the hard hardest. You were each others halves but there was something else. Something that young dumb you wouldn’t yet understand.

If his disappointed expression every time you would cancel on him didn’t hurt your heart, the hurt on his face when you would pretend like you didn’t see his wave in the school hallway punched you in the gut. But you managed to make more friends. It would be worth it. Wouldn’t it? You missed him, but you still wanted to have this social power, this freedom.

On the bus home one day a ring you wore broke in half, a silver ring with the emblem of wings. Looking at the two halves you decided to give one half to him on your walk home, his face lighting up as you give him the metal fragment. You would never truly understand the meaning of ring to him. It was a bittersweet moment when you both bid each other goodbye, no hugs or touches. Just a smile.

You saw him was again on the bus, this time your phone chimed with a text. It’s from him.

‘i’m going to kiss you today’

It was a little strange but so hopelessly innocent, he was asking his permission. You felt guilty when he had told you that you were his first anything, first girl he had talked to romantically and now he was hoping first kiss. But you didn’t know if you wanted it. You’d already wasted your first kiss on your first boyfriend, a regret.

You didn’t want to be a regret for him, you didn’t want to face your feelings firsthand either. You knew that this kiss would prove your feelings for him, no more tiptoeing around the bush that you both were doing. You were scared, what if he realized that you weren’t what he wanted. What if you get shunned from being with him?

So you ran. From your feelings, confusion, and most importantly from him. You didn’t kiss him that day, much less look at him.

You didn’t see him around much after that, you heard that he moved out of your neighborhood and into another one. His father had decided they needed a bigger house. You visited him with your family and he led you up to his room, showing you around. On his bookshelf glimmered the half of the ring you gave him, put on display as if it was a piece of art. You smiled as you saw it, you didn't know how much it meant to him.

In a few months, you would move to the same neighborhood. A plan your family had before you had even met him, maybe it was fate or maybe it was just some coincidence.

Your meetups were few and far between then, the next time you saw him was on a school trip to another state. A week where students would be unsupervised, to do whatever they pleased, a recipe for disaster. On the day of the departure, one of your friends had asked you about him before you both had got on the bus to leave. What sport he did, what he was like. You were confused, they’d never asked about him before. Much less without making fun of him.

You shrugged off the strange feeling creeping up on you and told her the basics, she was elated. Then she revealed her true intentions, she was interested. In him. You buffered. What? But you had ever told her what went on between you and him, so it’s not like girl code applied. And for some reason you didn’t want to tell her, he was a loser in the eyes of everyone. If you revealed what really happened, you would be deserted. You had enough of being alone for a lifetime.

You shot her a smile as genuine as you could muster and told her that you’d tell him to think about her. She grinned and thanked you, heading into the bus.

And you did. You did tell him that she would be good for him, that they had so much in common. You could see the disbelief in his eyes, that something like this was coming from someone as special to him as you. You didn’t meet his eyes once, face turned down and words quickly mumbled.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, maybe a romantic display like in the movies where the male lead would refuse and tell the female lead he only wanted her. Maybe you wanted him to grab you and shake some sense into you, remind you of what mattered and what he was to you.

You hated yourself for it, you didn’t want him to go, to leave you. But you were conflicted and stupid, unable to see the true value of what you were giving up. After he nodded at your suggestion, he walked off without a word. Maybe you didn’t deserve him anyway. You warded the tears off as you walked in the other direction.

You didn’t know that he would take the suggestion seriously, to get back at you or to get over you, you didn’t know. You'd deluded yourself into thinking that he would come back, you mattered enough to him, right? You didn't see or talk to him for two whole days, and honestly, you were ripping out your hair in frustration.

Finally, you'd see him when your group was visiting a landmark in the city you were in. It was supposed to be a normal day of the usual activities, sightseeing and such. But then you saw them both. Together. Maybe they’d started talking after you suggested it or maybe she’d come up to him, you didn’t even want to think he went up to her on his own accord.

It hurt in ways you thought unimaginable, why was it so easy for her? People did snicker at them and laugh sometimes but she was with him all day, not a hint of embarrassment on her face. They both laughed and whispered to each other, about what? You didn't know, you weren't sure you wanted to. But this wasn't fair, that should’ve been you. You tear your eyes away from the scene, you should've been stronger, been more resilient. Had you lost him already?

On the last day of the trip, you finally faced the truth that this wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. You knew that he deserved better, but with him by your side you could be better, for him. All you needed was him. You could deal with the gossip and public shunning if he was by your side.

You decide to talk to him on the last day of your trip, striding towards him as he faces the opposite direction, observing the artwork on the urban brick wall. Before you can even get close to him, she appears. Hair flowing behind her as confident strides bring her every bit closer to him. There's a bright smile on her face as she pulls him to face her, and he smiles back. Why does he smile back? Months of late-night talking, laughing, and understanding can’t be undone in a week right? Your heart stutters as you see him smile, a real smile. Not the melancholic one he’d give you when you said you couldn’t meet or talk to him, a real smile from his heart.

Then he leans in, he leans in first, and presses his lips against hers. A strong hand on her back to steady her as they share an innocent kiss, nothing more than lips pressed against each other. You stare at them, shock rendering your body immobile as they pull apart. Faint smiles are still present as they look at each other, and a glimmer in his eyes that you had stopped seeing a while ago returns.

You can’t stop the tears that fall down your face, apology you were planning to give him dampened and forgotten. You step back, you were too late. Far too late.

Turning around, you try to wipe the tears as they fall. You were really stupid huh? Took too long to decide and he finally realized that he deserved better, and she was his better apparently. But that kiss was supposed to be yours, it was your kiss. He was supposed to be yours, you were the one with him before anyone else. It was selfish, but if only. If only.

‘But you chased him away didn’t you?’ a voice whispered. You stopped. You were the one that forced him into the arms of another, why did you deserve to cry? You couldn’t help but wonder, did he think about you? Did he think about those late nights when you both would text like you were each other's lifelines? Maybe he would still be with you now, if you tried harder, if you ignored the others, if you saw all that mattered. He was what mattered.

But sometimes, doubt, a moment of hesitation was all it took to ruin everything that is and can be. All you had now were questions. The what ifs and maybes. The half of the ring, without knowing if he kept his.

a/n: well thats all guys :)) i'm gonna write a part two for this who knows how it'll go

[sweetestbasil]

RUBATOSIS || chapter one: self digestion

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it )

RATING : 18+ ( no smut in this chapter, but it's very unsettling )

WORD COUNT : 13, 776

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, body examination that has... strange vibes, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth. 

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : This is my first time posting my fanfic work on tumblr, so I hope everyone has fun reading this. If there are any mistakes, lemme know. This is the first of five chapters!

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ]

self digestion || autolysis - stage one of decomposition 

Oh, he hated this. 

He absolutely despised this.

A click of the soles, stepping against the freshly clean sidewalk, rid of any possible careless litter and debris. Had it not been for others who, too, were using the same path, even if they were going in opposite directions, had he half a mind, Coriolanus would have taken the moment to prop himself against a wall and let out the loudest sound of frustration. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, it wouldn’t be uncalled for. Dare he say, he almost feels he should be entitled to it. It had only been four days, but four days should have been enough time for Tigris to get back to him already. The correspondence was not even something of dire content, at least, Coriolanus imagined so. Questions of Grandma’am, if her time with Mrs. Plinth ( he was not going to refer to her as ‘Ma Plinth’ ) had been going well, how was the solo business venture regarding Tigris’s fashion going, was there any renovations that the home needed, how were they — things that he assumed, wrongly he guessed, that would be so simple to answer. 

God forbid that he still had the decency to still check in with his family even after he long moved out into his own place. 

If Tigris thought she could play him for a fool, she was the one in the wrong; the signs were as clear as can be, that Tigris was trying to ice him out as much as she could. And after all he’s worked hard for? Fixing the home up, making sure the fridge never stays empty, stabilizing the family. He’s even gotten engaged before Grandma’am could even croak, and is letting Tigris design his fiancé’s wedding gown! What else was he supposed to do to try and gain back her warmth? Dance and clap like a District to make himself seem smaller, more dumb, to please her? There was a lock to his jaw, a small grit in Coriolanus’s teeth, as he sipped down the coffee in his hand, the other in his coat pocket. 

He didn’t even wish to broach the idea of his fiancé on his walk to the Citadel. The heavy breath, a sigh, that breached itself out his lips. A hand raised to rub a gloved thumb briefly at the bridge of his nose. 

Ugh, Livia… It was a pain to even internally taste the words of her name on his tongue. 

It was an arranged marriage of convenience that he sought after, an extra piggy bank that he could expend on; and how quickly the elder Cardews lapped up at his palm when he planted the idea of marrying their daughter. A man who was of the old guard elite families, an assistant of Dr. Gaul’s, inheritor of the Plinth’s fortune, a gamemaker in training? They were downright salivating, that he almost felt embarrassed for Livia having to witness her parents’ stripped to their barest of greeds. The keyword being almost. Coriolanus needed to play his cards right to ensure his future, it was only fair game. If that meant taking his chance with the Cardews’ and their banks, he’d be just the fool that Tigris would want him to be if he turned them away. But, he could reluctantly suppose that the arrangement could be considered an equal drain on both parties. He seized their assets and their daughter seized up his free time. How could he forget the fundraiser dinner that Livia had invited them both to later on in the evening? She was delightful enough to remind him of it while they shared breakfast together, between his bites of quiche so that he couldn’t show a hint of a frown. 

Coriolanus sucked in a careful breath between his teeth. 

If she could only put herself to better use than just the one redeeming quality of a socialite. There was a slim chance he may have miscalculated. Perhaps it would have been an easier time, having something set up with Clemensia, or Lysistrata. 

“Mr. Snow! Good morning and welcome back, Dr. Gaul is already waiting for you in—“ 

“In Lab H05, got it! And a good morning to you, too.” He smiled back effortlessly to the front desk worker, giving them a wave and just the right, charming amount of teeth with the upwards pull of his mouth. 

Entering into the Citadel and seeing the hive of workers shift from one place to another in constant movement; they all tried to keep their voices at a low volume, but there was a constant buzz in the air, as they went from one hall to the other. Coriolanus maneuvered himself around them, slipping his deep mahogany overcoat seamlessly folded across his forearm. Full-Grain leather gloves that kept him warm from the cold, taken off his hands and instead placed neatly into the pocket of his overcoat. What a marvel it would have been for his young, naïve self to bear witness the luxury of a full wardrobe he now had. Never again did he have to spend long nights studying for the Academy besides an equally tired Tigris, who busied herself with trimming down the sizes of his father’s discarded shirts to fit him for school the next day. 

It was a muscle memory at this point, the path to one of the many labs that Dr. Gaul had established her practice in. She had told Coriolanus that she had a lab for each different study and project she was passionate towards, ones that were more… presentable, to the average Capital citizen, and ones that were more uncensored. Having worked for over a year under Dr. Gaul’s tutelage, Coriolanus had seen a decent amount, the clean and the vile, but even then, he knew very well he had not seen all. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see all. Especially regarding what happened last time he wandered around the Citadel during Academy days. The doors to Lab H05 were wide open, Coriolanus noted, seeing it in his line of sight, getting closer and closer. It was inviting, telling any worker to come in and step in at any time ( should Dr. Gaul be around ). 

The air here was entirely different from what it was in the hallway. Where the air from when he first entered had been warm, inviting from the nipping cold outside. The vague smell of coffee, and an even fainter scent of something chemical, had mingled and intertwined to give the vaguest illusion that the Citadel could pass for a workplace like any other. However, the lab was as if entering an entirely different building. The lights that shone uncomfortably glaring, fluorescent lights that were hung overhead, on the ceiling. There were small lights, embedded into the floors and columns as well, guiding the path to any who walked in. It drowned the large room in an almost blue light. Lab H05 was one of the “clean” labs. A sterile scent in the air, the chemicals that were so faint in the halls were far more prominent, evident here. But, to the trained nose, there was something faint here too. The rusted scent of iron tickled under Coriolanus’s nose, but it barely registered to him anymore as anything concerning. Seeing the endless shelves of… odd specimens, the scent of blood was the last thing that should ever scare him away. 

“Dr. Gaul, good morning,” He kept a steady tone, not one that sounded tired, nor too joyous. Being seen as her “favorite” didn’t mean he could speak to her as casually as he pleased. It just meant that he took her current attention. A fickle thing that could be stripped away at any moment if he showed any less than acceptable. 

“Coryo,” He tensed his shoulders the same time she breathed it out in loving fashion. Her back once facing him, now turned as she walks towards him to cut the distance between the two. Since the gap started to form between Tigris and him, Dr. Gaul had taken to using that nickname on him. If it was to be used in terms of endearing him to her, or to mock him with the name that ghosts had called him, none could say for sure.

Coriolanus liked to believe it to be both, if he believed his assumptions of her character were right.

He never once let his eyes leave contact with her own, but he could hear the movement of her prominent, red latex gloves being peeled off her hands. She always thought it to be ironic, to wear such a color despite her profession. It matched the dye job that she had done on her surgical gown. He felt the weight of hands touching either side of his forearms, the smile on Dr. Gaul’s face caused a crinkle in her eyes as she bared all teeth in her smile. He wondered if she knew how threatening her grin looked.

“A morning to you as well. Has it been treating you good?”  

It felt as if some sort of warm feeling was spreading out from Dr. Gaul’s hands, through his arms and into his body. What a disgusting sensation, it made goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“As well as it could be.” Coriolanus’s voice spoke softly. 

Livia drained his energy far more than he expected with her morning rambles and gossip. 

Dr. Gaul’s hands smacked against his arms in a laugh, loud and knowing, she always knew, turning around to walk deeper in the lab. “Hah! By the sounds of it, it seems you’re not getting some peace of mind when you head home,” She turned back to look at him, giving him a glance, she was prying something out of him. “That’s no good, Coryo. You need to be in top shape to work, I can’t have my assistant become so… drained.” 

The crease in her eyes showed again. 

“If this is your preferred state, there is a new species of leeches I am working on. I assure you it is far more efficient than a Cardew of species.”

Well, now it was his turn to laugh. 

A dry chuckle that slipped from Coriolanus’s lips, moving to follow Dr. Gaul. Placing his coat on a table made of rich wood, something less… aseptic looking. There were moments where he often froze under the woman’s gaze; a humiliating, bodily reaction that made him feel so small, so vulnerable as he used to be. Yet, it was in times like these, where he could understand how Dr. Gaul still managed to hold sway over people besides just exemplary displays of fear and power. There was a sense of humor to her, if he could call it that, where if a powerful woman like her involved yourself in - you felt so included, special. 

“It was nothing like that. Livia just reminded me that after work today, she and I have to attend dinner later in the evening. It’s a fundraiser for the improvement and reconstruction of the Corso.” He turned his sight away from Dr. Gaul’s eyes, not being able to keep the contact any more. Flicking to the sight of the endless, bright shelves that lit up the tubes containing various specimens and experiments. Some failures, some on pauses, some successes, and some were just creative ‘what-ifs’; that would explain some of the seemingly useless fusions, like the jellyfish that had spider legs mixed in with some of its natural lappets, now encased in a resin tube. Coriolanus can’t recall if he was employed at the Citadel yet when this specimen was made. His fingers briefly touched upon the cool glass of it. What a disgusting idea. “I almost nearly forgot about it.” Dr. Gaul hummed at his response. 

“Why, doesn’t that sound riveting! What a joy young life is, flitting from one function to the other, all the night-time glamor. You know, before I was transferred to work in the Citadel, I was the same. I thought of giving my children some of my old wardrobe from my youth, but it’s so out of the current trends, it just collects dust now.” What a blessing, for her kids. They could avoid the embarrassment of coming into the room looking as if they robbed the Pre-Dark Days exhibit at the Capital’s museum. The heels of Dr. Gaul’s heels clicked against the smooth, waxed floor. Coriolanus could feel the brief sliver of her heavy presence pass him by from behind, as she went to head over to another area in the room. It sounded vaguely close to the center of it. 

“You must be excited, Coryo. Are you going to wear,” Her words paused. She was tasting the air for something. “Ah, what’s her name… That cousin of yours, the one who started her new business a while ago.”

What was the point of this conversation?

“Tigris.” 

A brief flare tickled behind his ribs, reminding him of his thoughts earlier before. Standing up from his spot, fingers now leaving the glass of the odd ( sickening ) creature, his prints left slightly behind on the glass. Stretching his shoulders back with his arms, muscles pulled, away from their previously hunched position. Coriolanus walked over to where Dr. Gaul was, who stood nearby another table at the center of the lab. This time, this one was far cleaner, made of what seemed to be a material of stainless steel. In her hands she carried a manila folder, or two, in her hands; her painted nails sifted through the papers carefully. She was writing something quickly down inside of it. He wanted to know, but he held his tongue. Gaul would tell him if it was something he needed to be aware of. 

“And I’m not sure. Livia is still picking out her dress and I want to match with her.” He smiled at her. 

“Aren’t you a romantic,” She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye, the blue one that matched his. It made his skin crawl, he hated the feeling of it. “Is your heart melting, Snow?”

Coriolanus hopes she sticks to her career as a Gamemaker, being a comedian looks like a bleak future for her. 

The smile on his lips grew wider, a small laugh at her words, his hand reaching to cover his mouth slightly to muffle the sound in the large room. 

“I wouldn’t say that just yet.” 

He wouldn’t say it at all. Livia? Melt his heart? Sure, she could melt his eardrums when she had that obnoxious snort to her loud laughs. It made her sound like a pig, shipped straight to the Capital from the farms of District 10. That would defeat the purpose of why he married her in the first place. It would be the utmost betrayal to himself, after he had promised to close himself after– 

“Since you have a date tonight,” His ears perked up immediately. “I’ll reduce the amount of work you have for today, I’ll be merciful.” He wouldn’t argue if she decided to give him more. She pressed a manila folder into his open hands, her grip was tight on it. This was a folder that not many eyes needed to be on. Taking it carefully from her hands, he raised it to his eyesight curiously, catching the sight of the project name written on top of it. 

PROJECT: CAPTIVE – A.01 PROMETHEUS 

Coriolanus brought his gaze back towards Dr. Gaul. He assumed he slipped a confused gaze at her, because before he could even ask her, she’s already speaking up:

“This is a project I had started around the time you were exiled in District 12.” 

His jaw slightly tightened. She didn’t have to use that exact word to describe it. 

“It’s far more… unique,” Her eyes rolled around the room as she sought out the word, the moment it landed on her tongue, she locked her sight immediately onto him. Gaul’s smile pulled a bit more at her cheeks, a festering excitement that was slipping out from her internal confines. The threat of teeth in her smile was no longer an attempt of niceties, but far more sinister in its intentions. Coriolanus would argue on a good day that both were the same, that Dr. Gaul’s cruelty was her being kind. “Than my other projects. Far more different than any of my other muttations, this is a beast of a different breed, but one that you and I know intimately well.”

 So this was a human experimentation, Coriolanus deduced. 

Dr. Gaul would never dare to refer to those below Capital ranks as something human, there was always something else she had to refer to them by. Animal, beast, plague, insect, if it stripped them of their humanity, she was eager to take it. They shared similar sentiments, but sometimes, he had to give them some form of distinct name to separate them. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of it. Usually, I’d handle its tests and exams, but you seem like you need a pick-me-up.” 

It should make him disgusted at how easily she could see through him. 

The older woman stepped further away from him, into one of the dark recesses of the room. Lab H05 was one of the main center labs within the Citadel, meaning it earned itself the privilege to have its layout be connected to other rooms, outside areas, halls, and the like. It just happened to be, the darker areas that Gaul was heading in were towards the direction of one of the elevators connected to the room. Coriolanus watched her body retreat into the dimly lit area, not quite following after her. He didn’t know why. His hands felt stiff with the folder in his hands. The pounding beat of his heart in his ears matched in tempo with the steps of her heels against the floor. If he was going to move, she was going to need to ask him. She knew too, the doctor knew her own footsteps, and she was very aware when others’ joined in. Turning around to look at where he still was, standing, watching, she looked back at him. Coriolanus could make out her faint silhouette in the dark, but Dr. Gaul’s blue eyes shone brighter in the dark. As if she had tapetum lucidum, how it reflected so wildly. She was not helping the rumors made against her, that questioned if she ever used herself for a subject of fascination. 

“Come now, Coryo. You don’t want to waste time.”

A silence fell upon them both. 

“Understood, I’m right behind you.”

Walking after her, Coriolanus descended the small set of stairs that she had gone down from, he stepped into the dimly lit area. The manila folder was still grasped tightly in his one hand, at his side. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand her. Yes, she said that she wanted to cheer him up, but he’d be a fool if he was to believe that’d was to be the only reason why she was doing this. Volumnia Gaul, telling confidential secrets because she cared for his well being? No, there was always something else. An ulterior motive she wished to serve, or a lesson she wanted to teach. When he was brought back from his sentence of being a peacekeeper, it was not because her heart broke over him. She was not weeping at him having to tread his feet into the muck and grime of District 12. It was because she was holding him up to an ambition that both him and her both wished to see. 

“This one,” Dr. Gaul started her words, occasionally turning her head to the side to make sure he was still following her ( he was ). “Started out as a simple curiosity. I had to sit with myself quite a bit to figure out a punishment that would actually serve some productivity.” Her hands reached behind her, flicking at the folder that Coriolanus was holding. He opened up the folder, finally, to look through the report. Whatever the Doctor was gesturing vaguely in conversation, it would be more explicit in her writings. “Displays of cadavers, desecration of the human silhouette, trauma to the cerebrum, these punishments can only go for so long before new ideas must be made. If the rebels expect the same disciplinary action, you can expect them to gain a tolerance to it.”

Squinting at the paper, he leaned his head slightly down to get a closer look of the subject. A small photo was attached to the report by a paperclip, it was a person who seemed to be in a similar age group to his. They looked clean, proper - they wore an ironed, white button up shirt under a dark vest, with unique, yet simple earrings they donned on. Pearls and tiny opals that dangled from a gold chain earring. A family heirloom, if Coriolanus had to guess. They smiled widely in the photo. Their teeth weren’t perfect, their upper cuspid was a bit more pointed in comparison to all others. 

They had once been a capital citizen, turned rebel, to… this. 

“I wanted to truly push my mind forward, and see if the impossible would truly be… well, possible.” Dr. Gaul grinned at the end of the sentence. Coriolanus lifted the photo up, after hooking his gaze unto the former for a moment. It’s a shame, he thought to himself. How pretty they are, had they not tainted their mind with childish ideas they would have continued to live in the comforts that they were so comfortably lavishing in before. He was curious as to whose family they once belonged to. A filthy curiosity enticed him, a want to digest more at the report at the risk of tuning out Gaul’s feverish ramblings. 

“Personally, I outdid myself.”

There was a small desire to curse her under his breath, the writing for the subject’s name was far too rushed and messy to read properly. Did she want him to read the report, or play word scramble? 

Dr. Gaul’s steps had stopped, the white noise of her chatter turned to silence was enough to bring his head back from the report. She stood between him and the elevator, holding her hands in front of her, folded. Peeking to the side, the button for the down level was lit up in a glow of red. Her smile widened. 

“Curiosity eating away at you, Coryo?” 

It still made his skin crawl, everytime she used that name. How frightening it was, that it also brought him a strange sense of the coldest warmth. 

“You’ve talked so vividly about them,” Not clear enough. “I want to see what makes you so excited about them.” He wants to see if they could come close to bringing him out of his frustrations. Fingers that touched the edge of the subject’s photo twitched in tempo with the small ding of the elevator. Doors opening, Dr. Gaul stepped to the side. Hands gestured, letting him know to step in first which he obliged. Yet, no other steps than his own followed him in. Coriolanus turned around, a puzzled look on his face when he noticed how Dr. Gaul was standing in the middle of the elevator’s doors. 

“Expected me to come join you? You can’t be so attached to my hip, Coryo.” She laughed, her hands reached in between her surgical gown and work attire. Pulling out a set of keys attached to her worker’s ID, she tugged a key off. Dr. Gaul dipped her body slightly in to twist at a lock that had revealed another panel of floor buttons aside from the usual floor ones. This must have been the key designated for the Citadel’s researchers and engineers. He had a private key of his own, but that was reserved for Game Makers. Still in training, but Dr. Gaul had persuaded the others to give him his own copy. “I have other things that need tending to, so you’ll have to have your fun without me.” Pushing a floor button that was labeled C09, glowing red under her touch, she gave him her key. She pressed into Coriolanus’s free palm, closing his fingers to clasp around it. 

“You can keep this one. I’ll ask for another copy.”

Was it because this one almost seemed rusted over to hell and back? Coriolanus wasn’t an idiot. He could feel the textured sensation of something that, usually, was supposed to be smooth metal. 

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.” He spoke softly back to her. 

Dr. Gaul sent him another smile towards his way, the abominable sight of her gradually leaving his sight as the doors closed. A divide now between the both of them. 

Instantly, a breath of air was released from Coriolanus. His head reeled back, eyes closed,  leaning against the wall of the elevator. He was now by himself. Free from that imposing woman, he finally could be released from her watchful gaze. Always gauging him, examining him as if he, too, was another subject on her surgical table. Perhaps, in a strange, distant sense, he was. Which is why he likes it far more when their interactions are limited. Even if it makes him feel guilty if he hasn’t spoken to her for any prolonged amount of time. 

Another breath, he brought his head back down, eyes open. Opening his hand to where the key was held in his hand. It was frighteningly warm in his hand, most likely from when both Dr. Gaul and him held onto it. The material of the key was dark in color, rust having formed around some of the edges. Spots of dark stains marred its dull shine, it almost looks black in contrast to the key’s natural dark hue. This most definitely was blood, now dried. In his head, Coriolanus could see the vivid picture in his head: Dr. Gaul barely bothering to remove her gloves after leaving the examination room, holding the key between sticky gloves. A sneer pulled on Coriolanus’s face. He pocketed the key away. 

He wanted to focus on something else. 

The weight of the manila report at his side stuck out glaringly obvious, he still had yet to fully read through everything. His fingers were still thumbing between one of the pages, bookmarking a random place in the report. Should he wait to see the project on his own? Give himself something ‘fun’ to surprise himself with? A discomfort prickled at the hairs on his neck. No, he didn’t like surprises too much. Surprises meant no control, and no control meant chaos that wasn’t under his hand. And what more could be asked, when what he needed to know was right here. Hands flipped back open the manila folder while he waited for the elevator to finish its descent. 

On the first page, there was only one photo of the subject, before the project had started. Dr. Gaul was always so thorough, so there must have been more to see. And how he loved to be right, when the sight of more clipped on photos peeked through in between pages. He stopped at the sight of them. These had been nude, taken in what was most definitely an examination room. They must’ve been in captivity for a few days for how haggard they looked. Gleam completely gone, with only a dark emptiness seen on their face. Signs of minimal swelling on their left cheek from when they were hit by a peacekeeper when resisting arrest. Bags under the optics, suggesting either sleep deprivation or developed insomnia. His eyes lingered on the photos that took in zoomed in shots of identifiable beauty marks that were scattered around their body. One around the back of their left acromial, around the sternocleidomastoid, one on the left mammary gland, and another on the right femoral muscle. Unconsciously, his fingers traced along the edges of each photo as he examined them until they traced after the words of ink. 

The objective of the project: engaging and testing pain receptors on the subject. By use of non-licensed medication and surgical operations, the subject’s NTRK1 gene was mutated to a certain extent to gain the closest imitation to Congenital Analgesia ( while still keeping the subject alive ). If Coriolanus recalled, in his textbooks, Congenital Analgesia was a condition that always was given to a patient by a pass down from the parent. It was never really something ‘made’, or ‘given’. He could understand now why Dr. Gaul was so pleased with herself for accomplishing this feat. Curiosity was beckoning him, wanting to see more of what the report entailed. 

Pages dedicated to each operation, each test done. There were pain charts made, scales from 1 to 10, to test out the nerve receptors. Each test, the numbers on the chart went lower and lower; 10s that went to 9s, to the current lowest being a 6 for the majority of the subject’s body. The more sensitive areas, such as the frontal or the palmar of the body, were around 7 to 8 on the chart. Flipping to the back of the contents, there was a small note in Dr. Gaul’s handwriting.

Today, please take care of Project Prometheus’s nerve exams. The last surgical operation was done last month and they have just now fully recovered. Update the report by the end of today, to measure if there are any fluctuations on their pain receptors.

Sounded simple enough. If this was all he had to do today, then there was a chance he could clock out from work even earlier to give himself space before tonight’s event. A ding finally was heard from the elevator, he was here at Lab C09. Folder closed in his hands, his foot stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. What a drastic difference Lab C09 had been in comparison to Lab H05. If it hadn’t belonged to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus may not have been able to believe that this was an actual functioning lab. It almost seemed forgotten by the Citadel, half of the fluorescent lights not working, or blinking at different intervals. It bathed the floor in a very gray, almost vile green hue. The scent of copper and rust was far more noticeable, and the smell of medicine felt almost nauseous here. There were no grand columns in sight, and no endless amount of shelves dedicated to new specimens and ideas of creation. The floors were unkempt, specks of dirt packed into the corners of where the wall and once sleek tiles met. Occasional cracks on the floor, parts of the design broken and shattered into bits of ceramic. The halls were long, with endless doors that ( thankfully ) all were open, empty, or both. With the exception of the large corridor doors at the other end. He could make out the sight of Peacekeepers that stood on guard, near the corridor door and by the elevator entrance. 

This definitely was Dr. Gaul’s more… uncensored labs. 

Coriolanus took a few more steps into the lab and noticed the large stain of dried blood that dragged from where his feet stood, past the corridor doors. Eyebrows raised at the sight, but his eyes did not widen. Marvelous, the subject might still be rebellious. If this was to be the case, he’d be severely unimpressed. All these exams to change the NTRK1 and nothing done to affect the amygdala. 

Sloppy work here, Dr. Gaul. 

Pushing through the corridor doors, after giving the briefest of nods and acknowledgement towards the Peacekeepers, he found himself exactly where he needed to be. Entering an area that was entirely void of light, except for one thing. 

A large window glass on the other side, showing the examination room on the other side. It lit up this half of the hall, shelves of varying medicines and chemicals lined against the walls of the examination room. Surgical tools were lined up high on the wall, out of reach, not yet pulled out and placed on the side. Today there was no operation to be done. Examination lights shone overhead, and under it was the examination table where Project Prometheus sat. 

They sat down so compactly, so politely, knees folded to their chest and arms wrapped around them, their face leaned against the crevice their legs gave. The subject definitely had changed, physically, since the projects had begun. Their skin barely had the warm glow it had in their photo, had it not been for the peeks of color on their joints, he’d assume that there was no more blood rushing through their body. Their hair that once looked so well maintained, luxurious, was cut at awkward angles. Yet, it still managed to frame their face well enough. Figures, that was former Capital genes at work. Their body has taken significant damage since then. Scars of various shapes were scattered all across, bandages wrapped in some areas, and stitches that dragged around entire limbs, like their arms, thighs, feet, even one on their face. As if they were some over-played ragdoll that was patched up far too many times. There was no fight he could see from their eyes, and no anger. Was the blood on the floor halls really theirs, or did that belong to someone else?

This could not even be called anything, but a shell of a husk. 

Coriolanus stood there, watching, taking in the sight of them. It barely felt like he was breathing. And that alone irritated him. It’s like his body was trying to make itself seem smaller; as if he was somehow bothering them. He sighed out his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t even hear him from the thick glass, what would he be so concerned with? Bringing his hand back down, about to open the manila folder once again to compare their ID photo to their current state - he peeked at their form again. 

He had been noticed by it. 

His breath felt lodged in his throat, his original action now tossed to the side, as they and him both just… watched each other. Their eyes that had looked so sullen and distant before, were so focused and vigilant of him. But, they didn’t seem scared of him. Their body didn’t look tense, their expression didn’t twist into any wrinkles. What feeling was running through their body? Could they possibly feel anything? Coriolanus stepped away from the glass, slowly, and down further into the hall, to where the door of their examination room was. A peacekeeper stood guard near the heavy door, beside them a surgical gown, cap, goggles and gloves were on a hook. Excusing the other to the side, so he could reach and grab the attire to put on himself. Coriolanus questioned, as he tugged the latex rubber gloves on, if he still wanted to entertain the idea of holding their test today. Teeth grinded inside his jaw, he hated to admit weakness, but it was no lie that they unsettled him when they had stared back. 

That probably contributed to why Dr. Gaul favored the project so much, both must take joy from bringing him such unease. A sigh hissed from his teeth, as he put the surgical mask on. 

“I’ll be back out in just a moment. I’ll let you know if an emergency comes up.” 

It’ll be easy work, and then he can leave.

Opening the door, the sterile smell of the room rushed past him as the metal door was moved from its tight seal and then closed heavily behind him. Their head had moved away from where the glass window was, turned to stare at where he stood near the door, their folder still in his hands. Thinly-veiled sweat was forming inside the gloves, with the silence that fell heavy in the room. He opened the folder. 

“Good morning, Subject A01, I am–”

…? 

Did they say something? 

“...I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Another tense silence fell in the air. 

“... That isn’t my name.” Its voice was quiet, slightly hoarse but not entirely. Unexpected, considering their length of stay here. His fingers pinched tightly at one of the pages. 

“...What do you mean?” He was not going to call them by their Capital name. They had long since lost the right to use it, after rebelling against Panem. 

“Dr. Gaul calls me something else.” Coriolanus was going to kill it if they did not clarify. 

“And what does she call you?” This was the nicest tone he could muster. 

They spoke it once into the air, still looking at him with those dead eyes of theirs. Had Dr. Gaul been so fond of it to have given it an entirely new name? And they accepted and went along with it? That didn’t feel right, from what he’s examined about them so far. They were a rebel, they had fought against a Peacekeeper, they were dragged around the halls bleeding. 

And they gave up their old name?

It had shifted out of its cradled position, their legs dangled off the examination table and their arms were placed on their side. Coriolanus could see the patient gown they wore more clearly. It kicked its feet in the air idly, as it waited for his response. 

… Do they even know the situation that they’re in? 

“...Right. Well, do you know why I’m here?” 

“Not really. I’ve never met you before.” Was context clues also something it gave up while in captivity? “I know the guards, and I know Dr. Gaul. I don’t think I know about you,” They’re a prisoner, it’d be counter-intuitive if people were giving them info about every single staff member here. His mask covered the lower half of his face, but he hoped the slight shift of facial muscle was enough to convey that was trying to smile towards them. He walked further into the examination room, closer to where it sat and where the shelves of drugs and medical equipment were lined up. Their stare was burrowing holes into his back, while he shifted around, opening and closing shelves and drawers to check inside for what he needed. 

“Well, I am Dr. Gaul’s assistant. You can call me Snow,” He was not giving his first name to a former rebel. “I’m here today because Dr. Gaul is a bit busy today to handle your check-up, so I’ll be filling in her role.” Gloves shifted bottles around, turning them around to read the labels. The disinfectant, cotton swabs, tweezers, needles, rubbing alcohol, syringes, the bite-rag, marker, he had it all except the custom medicine that Dr. Gaul had made for it. In the instructions of how to construct their exam, Dr. Gaul had explicitly mentioned that they were to take specific medication, as they had helped keep it conscious at all times for operations and exams. It was needed so that they’d be able to relay the ratings, which is why Coriolanus was reading yet another prescription bottle in his hands, squinting in frustration. 

“It’s this bottle over here.” 

A delicate, scarred hand had pointed at another bottle that sat idly on the shelf. Coriolanus turned his head slightly, seeing the subject no longer on the examination table, standing behind him quietly. Not staring at him, they were entirely looking at where their hand pointed. They were only standing just a couple inches away from his body, careful not to touch him as they stood on the tips of their toes to point at the medicine. With this proximity, it was easier for him to get a closer look at them. The stitches on its body were done with thick, prominent threads; there were far more beauty marks he could pick out on their face that the photos didn’t display. The patient gown was made from a material far thinner than he expected, a visible silhouette could be seen from underneath the flimsy cloth. His mouth felt unusually dry. 

A cold chill trickled down his spine. He barely noticed them. He doesn’t even think it made a sound when it moved. 

“Careful, keep your space from me.” He spoke, a careful warning to their ears and a threatening promise on his. He didn’t want to risk being so close to them like this, he barely knew the extent of how violent the project could possibly be yet. Still, they listened, backing away from him and putting their hand back down to their side. Both it and him stared at each other again, the tense air dancing back inside the room. They looked as if they had wanted to say something, and Coriolanus, internally, felt almost violent for how demure they were being with him. It repulsed him, how it felt almost endearing if he looked at them for a second more. 

“Is something wrong?” Eventually he bit the bullet, speaking first between the two of them. He can’t bear another moment of silence with it. 

“... I don’t need a bite-rag. I don’t think I really scream much anymore.” They still had an issue with explaining context to him more, he’ll tell Dr. Gaul that needed some work lat– His jaw ticked… Why did he care about your abysmal social skills? It was a captive, it had no one to speak to other than their own captors. Pulling down their prescription from the shelf, a dark, thick liquid, he said in return: “It’s best to have it on hand, just in case you need it. Now, return back to the examination table.” For a split second, he thought he could see their gaze soften at him. Were they seriously entertaining the idea that he was being nice to them? Coriolanus just didn’t want to deal with their sounds while he worked. It’d be like trading one screaming fit for another, for when he had to go on his date with Livia later in the evening. 

They nodded, and followed his command, walking back to sit on top of it. Their body was sitting in his direction though, observing, waiting for him. Coriolanus still felt unsure about them, but… it was strange, their obedience. It made him suspicious of its intent with all this. Trailing back to the center of the examination room, he placed all the tools on a metal tray. Pulling out an exam stool from under one of the tables, he set the syringe to the cap of its prescription. He pulled the plunger of the syringe up, watching as the barrel filled up with medicine, until it sat nicely. The needle left smoothly from the cap, and a drop of the liquid dangled at the edge of it. This form of silence he liked far more better. 

“...Do you have family, Dr. Snow?” 

So close. Coriolanus flicked the needle harshly, the drop hitting somewhere else. He placed the ready syringe down, and picked up the black marker. Turning back towards them, their head rested in their palms, watching him intensely. 

“That’s none of your concern. Now please, remove your gown so we can get started on the examination.” Grabbing the stool to pull it underneath him, he got comfortable in the seat while it moved to get up. As their hands reached behind them to undo the tie around their waist first, it still spoke ( much to his chagrin ). 

“I was just wondering since Dr. Gaul usually talks whenever she comes to visit.” That explained why their throat was not as hoarse as he was expecting. Dr. Gaul was treating her trials with them as a morning brunch. “She sometimes talks about her day, or talks about her family.” They loosened the tie around their waist, the fabric more flowy around their lower body. Coriolanus stared intently, taking in the first peek of skin. Looking past the scars, despite the stitches pulling at parts of their skin, and the dented scars, their skin looked soft, malleable. They must’ve been popular on weekend nights, back then. Their hands reached up to undo the tie around their collar. Rather than watching him while he worked, it was his turn to watch them. There was that beauty mark on their left acromial. Eyes leisurely trailed back up to their fingers, the smallest note with how it fumbled around behind them to untie the flimsy string. Their movements were clumsy, in his eyes, which almost surprised him. “She likes to talk about her three kids often.”

Coriolanus looked away from their stitched fingers, confusion on his face. 

“Dr. Gaul only has two kids.” He’s seen the photos she has in her office. She has two sons, both who have gone on to have families of their own. Not once has she mentioned a third kid, Coriolanus isn’t even sure it was possible at her age. Didn’t menopause usually affect a person’s chances of getting pregnant? Maybe it was a secret child she had abandoned at the maternal ward while dropping off her resignation as an obstetrician. 

“No, she has three. She told me their names: Caius, Martius, and Coriolanus.” 

Oh. 

Oh, now that’s… 

“I see. You must be closer to Dr. Gaul than I am.” 

He didn’t know what to really say to that. There was really nothing for him to go and argue about, especially with the patient. Coriolanus couldn’t quite outright say that the third child was him, especially when he specifically told them to refer to him by his last name. And if he revealed that this was an entire lie on Dr. Gaul’s end, he wasn’t quite sure how the woman would react for doing so. It wasn’t his place, when he had no idea what Gaul had wanted to achieve. He understood the physical punishment and hypothesis being put upon Project Prometheus, but he had yet to understand where the emotional, and the mental, aspect of this punishment was. Dr. Gaul will tell him if it was needed, or he’ll figure it out based on his own conclusions. That must be one of the purposes Dr. Gaul had assigned this task to him. 

“Alright. I’m done.”

Coriolanus blinked. He didn’t even realize he lost focus on them, he let out a small exhale as he lifted himself from the exam stool, marker ready in hand. 

“Right, for the next step of this exam, I need to…” 

Words trailed off for him. 

What an entirely different view it was, from before, looking at them only from the back. From behind, it was just read to him as a large canvas of skin that had already been stained and painted on. Nothing that gave way to what person under the flesh could be. Yet, the front… There was more to regard and take note of, a far more different feeling than just having viewed from the photos alone in the reports. If he were to ignore the marks left on their body, had they stayed perfect from before, he could’ve made the argument about their body being more alluring than the average Capital citizen. That familiar, dry feeling touched his throat again. What a waste, for genes like that to be wasted on a rebel. There were more beauty marks and moles in the front, along with more stitches and scars. Coriolanus could see the surgical scars that were healing between their pectoralis major area. A curiosity rose, questioning how scarred tissue would feel under his gloves. He raised an eyebrow, as his gaze dared to move to a lower section on their body. Must be for easier mapping, that Dr. Gaul decided it was best to have their pubic area shaved clean.

“...Dr. Snow, are you okay?”

His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips under the surgical mask. 

“Fine, just thinking about Dr. Gaul’s instructions.” He was going to go insane before he could even head to the fundraiser tonight. Coriolanus reached his free hand out, hovering it over their shoulder area, guiding them to stand closer to the area between the exam table, and his stool. He took note, that despite the way their body has changed since their captivity, their body still held a warmth that radiated off from their skin. “Stand here, please. For this next step, I’ll be using this marker here to map out the different muscles and areas on your body. Are you familiar with this?”

The subject nodded, a yes from their lips. 

Good. 

The sound of the marker cap popping off filled in the lack of words on Coriolanus’s part, the black cap falling on the tiled floor and rolling off to a dark, distant corner of the room. “For today, we’ll only be focusing on the external pain chart. Meaning skin surface only,” He lifted the subject’s hair, pushing up against the subject’s head, strands that were long enough to block full access to the neck. Bringing the marker up, he pressed down the chiseled tip of alcoholic ink on the subject’s skin, making the first section of dotted lines. Writing on their skin in careful, small letters, the areas that compromised their neck; the semispinalis capitis, the levator scapulae, the rhomboid minor–

“How long have you worked for Dr. Gaul?”

Fingers nearly stumbled in drawing when the muscle stretched in movement, he lifted the marker carefully away from its skin. The idea of putting in Gaul’s suggestion box the order of a mouth gag was becoming all the more tempting to him. 

“It doesn’t concern you.” Coriolanus responded, coolly. 

He pressed the marker back down on its skin, moving himself to the anterior of its body. Between his gloved fingers, he held their chin. The muscle limp in his hands, letting him lift their chin up to show more, exposing the unfolded expanse of their skin. The project was an annoying one, but at the least,they were a pliant one. The black dotted lines drew itself across the subject’s body: the sternocleidomastoid, the sternohyoid–

“How has your day been so far, Dr. Snow?”

Would Dr. Gaul throw him to the curb if he strangled one of her projects?

Coriolanus lifted himself slightly from his leaned down angle, his fingers that once lifted its chin up, had pulled their chin back down to look at him eye to eye. Its gaze stared back at him with such emptiness, a lack of anything to be seen, no anger, no defiance, no discomfort, not even joy. His eyebrows narrowed down slightly as he took in the face that held no question to how, and what, manner he held their body in. Were they trying to please him? Make his guard drop down by asking questions, hoping that he’d become more sympathetic towards them? 

“Dr. Gaul isn’t here. You are under no requirement to attempt conversations like you’ve done with her.” He spoke, trying his best attempt at sounding sympathetic to their ears. That would be the easiest explanation. The soul of them was sucked out by Dr. Gaul forcing them into an illusion of a grotesque socialite. That’d explain away the project’s incessant speaking. 

Yet, the subject had tilted their head under his fingers. The slightest push against his grasp. 

“... Do you not like talking, Dr. Snow? Dr. Gaul always looks so happy when she’s talking.”

So they were trying to suck up to him. He locked his teeth. And to think, he was giving them a chance of redemption, by assuming that they had been conditioned to engage in meaningless conversation. Maybe he was wrong about their obedience. There was still a spark of a rebel within them regardless of their time, their experiences, in captivity. 

“I only ever see Dr. Gaul, so I got excited to see someone new. I’m sorry for upsetting you,”

They could’ve fooled him with that tone of voice. They sounded as dead as their eyes had looked. Yet, Coriolanus bit his bottom lip as the doubt touched his head; the subject’s stare, if he gazed deeply enough he felt as if he could almost make out a sullenness to them. Were they legitimately apologetic? He didn’t want to even know the answer, he just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible. He let go of their chin, releasing it. Gloved fingers now traced the space between their shoulder and collarbone, the subject angling their neck to the other side to give him room. He brought the marker back down to their skin, more dotted lines appearing under his wake. 

“... What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Gaul, if I may ask?” He hated them, he decided. He hated how quickly they managed to rope him into this dumb small talk. It was almost audible, the sound of the subject blinking, feeling their gaze boring under the layers of his clothes. Did he say the wrong thing? Did they not want conversation? He adjusted the weight of his stance, uncomfortable under the silence the subject had unwillingly placed him in. Was he not doing what they wanted, was that not enough for them?

“Dr. Gaul is…” Their words trailed off. They were trying to find the words, unsure of what to say to him. They most likely didn’t want to try and insult her, considering her assistant was in the room with them. They don’t want to risk possibly earning more punishment. Project Prometheus may have been smarter than what he initially assumed. Coriolanus moved back to the posterior, hands trailed themselves across the subject’s shoulders, feeling, to remind him of the muscle underneath before he marked it down. Trapezius. 

“Dr. Gaul is my caretaker, I think.” 

Well isn’t that something unique. 

If the subject had decided to say captor, overseer, punisher, he wouldn’t have cared. It would’ve been honest. Caretaker? That was something different, that was something sympathetic. The thought of them turning this twisted dynamic into something heartfelt, fell sour on his tongue. It made him feel repulsion towards them. Why bother to lie? “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft, inviting the project to open themselves to him. As the marker continued to mark their skin, Coriolanus took one of its arms under his hand. The subject’s fingers twitched slightly, when he brought his hand under theirs. Their hand was not that big in comparison to his own, unable to fully fill out of his palm. The fingertips were usually the more sensitive parts, when it came to sensations. He hummed. Adductor pollicis. 

“...I’m not sure how to describe it well.” They sounded unsure. Spending this extended amount of time with them, Coriolanus could make out the slight tonal differences they had in their voice. It was very small, though. The muscles in his hands seem to slightly tense.

“Do your best for me.” 

Their fingertips, the slightly yellowed nails, tapped slightly at the latex material of his gloves. Almost as if fidgeting to gather the words, the right ones, to say to him. 

“Dr. Gaul has always been… someone there, I suppose.” Because she has to. “The guards are there too, but they don’t really notice me in the way Dr. Gaul does.” He wrote down on another part of the subject’s arm, drawing another dotted line. Brachioradialis. “Even though the tests kind of hurt, but I’m getting used to it now, she’s been the only one so far to give me a name, a birthday, check up on me, tell me about her day,” He was almost impressed at how their were trying to upsell the ‘normalcy’ of their captivity. A new name and birthday? Maybe the secret third child of Dr. Gaul wasn’t him, but actually them instead. He almost laughed aloud at the prospect of it. Coriolanus turns to the other side of their body, taking the other arm of the subject to write on after finishing the other. Biceps brachii. “That’s like a caretaker, right?” And now it was asking for his confirmation? It truly does want to appease him. He let out another hum, as if he was thinking to himself when he was going to go along with their delusions. “It sounds like Dr. Gaul cares a great deal for you.” He lied to them. 

Making his back to the anterior of the subject’s body, he stood in front of them, the subject tilting their head up to him. Project Prometheus was shorter, in comparison to him, standing at eye level against his chest. Latex touched the area of the linea alba, Coriolanus kept his gaze steady on them and they did the same. There was a silence that fell between them, but it felt so uninviting to him now that he finally had it. The subject still held their indifference, their apathy, and he wanted to know why it bothered him so much when he should like how easy of a prisoner they were being. No, there had to be something more. There was always something more. His fingers dragged down their skin, and his marker followed behind, writing down the names of the muscles he touched. The subject had moved their arms, and Coriolanus tensed for a second, thinking they were finally going to react, going to grab him, hit him, something – yet, their arms shifted away from the angle of his body, moving in to hold the muscles of the pectoralis major up in their hands, cupping them. They were making more room for him to write on their upper abdomen. 

Coriolanus loathed them. 

Had he had half the control, he would’ve smacked the stitched hands away. He liked it far more when they acted like a ragdoll, instead of this game of pacification it was trying to play. Writing down on the external oblique aponeurosis, he brought his hands back up their skin until it rested under their wrists. He held both their wrists on either hand. “Please, bring your hands down so I can continue mapping.” The words came out more as a whisper than he had intended. They instantly had listened to his command, letting their arms fall back on either side and their chest exposed to him. His eyes lingered briefly on the sight, taking in the small details that made the subject unique. The beauty mark on their left mammary gland, now in his line of sight. No longer blocked by the limit of only just a photo. There was that dry feeling in his mouth again. 

Carefully, bringing a hand up, gauging their reaction, he held one of the mammary glands in his free hand and a marker up in the other. Judging their face, they seemed neutral, no frown or smile, no wrinkle, no squint. He could assume there must have been discomfort under those dark pits for eyes. He knew that’s what he felt, doing this right now. Coriolanus wondered if it would have been better or worse, if Project Prometheus were to be more… reactionary. 

“Let me know if anything bothers you.” Dotted lines followed after his hand. He’d take it, the laborious small talk. It was much more preferred right now than this tortuous silence that had fallen between them. Thick and constricting, had it gone on any longer, Coriolanus knew he would drive himself internally insane if he was to be left alone to his own thoughts. If Project Prometheus had done nothing while he was holding onto their very own breasts in his hands. Had it been any other person, they would’ve squirmed under his touch. Possibly even a twitch to unconsciously move away, as the marker moved against the skin of the areola. The mapping of the right gland was dotted and marked completely. 

“You don’t bother me.” 

Now, that felt deliberate. 

Ink halted, stopping after writing out the final letter of the pectoralis minor. The words were written next to the beauty mark he had noted before. Coriolanus was tempted to make dotted lines around the area, as a place of special interest, though marks like these were no major muscle or nerve. Blue eyes had looked up through thick lashes, he slightly lifted his craned head up to get a better look at the subject. Peering towards their face, he didn’t know why he expected anything different. It was the same look of disinterest, the broken lights hung above them casted a haunting shadow over their face. Did he also look similar, when they stared back at him? In certain angles, despite the unnerving look the room had given them, Coriolanus might’ve thought their eyes seemed naturally soft towards him. Innocent, maybe. 

Did they see nothing wrong with what he was doing? … Or had all the tests and operations ruined not just their nerves, but fried them, that their sense of danger seemed near non-existent? 

Was this another form of appeasement that it was trying to pull on him? 

Unconsciously, his hands had released themselves, finally, from holding onto Project’s Prometheus’s breasts. Both now marked, his free hand slid down the expanse of their abdomen. The ridges and bumps of their scars and stitches were felt briefly, the full grasp of the sensation blocked by the barrier of latex rubber wrapped around his fingers. Not once did he look away from the subject as his hands made its way down, and neither did Project Prometheus. His hand stopped at the tensor fasciae latae. Something was wrapping itself around the cavity of his chest, making the activity of breathing a difficult feat for him to do. Coriolanus didn’t know what he was doing. Was he trying to garner a bigger reaction from it? An attempt of possibly stirring violence, even? 

Maybe it was delaying his own discomfort, he realized. Looking down, he stared to see the spread of skin below that had no splotches of black ink. They were shorter than him, he’d have to get down on his knees if he wanted to have clear and easy access to mark its legs. How humiliating… Having risen up through the ranks and bringing the Snow family back to its rightful place of acclaim and fortune; only to fall back down on his knees to a prisoner, a former rebel. If the other families caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it. 

Reluctantly, still holding onto their hip, his body moved itself to the floor. Knees touched against the uneven grout of the tiles, the position a bit awkward. He was thankful, for the surgical gown he wore, that the vile floor of the examination room wouldn’t stain against his clothes. Tracing his hand down to the stitch mark path of their leg, he rested it at the back of their thigh. Coriolanus tilted his head up, ready to command that Project Prometheus moved their leg more towards him. But, his words fell into a silent, held breath as he gazed up at them from his position. The shadow that had cascaded over their face briefly from before was now entirely enveloped around their body. Sickly green fluorescent lights shone above their head, akin to a haloing effect. Illuminated around the edges of their body, their hair, the subject still looking at him. Only him, and nothing else. A thrumming noise was loud in his ears; it felt dangerous. It felt like a warning that something was wrong here. He had felt it before.

Project Prometheus moved its leg forward, more into him, without a word ever spoken between the two of them. How pliant it was with him. 

He pressed the marker against their skin as thank you, dipping his head back down to their thigh. It would be risky, if he lost focus. There was still so much he had yet to know of the subject, the layers that were contained behind the flimsy shield of flesh and tissue. He dotted the area of the vastus medialis, careful not to press the ink against the subject’s stitches so as not to irritate the healing skin there. Maybe its attempts of appeasement were working on him. Not once did he think he’d have a shred of enough care to think about the possibility of ink seeping into their wounds. 

He marked down the region of the knee. Patella. 

“...You’re a very gentle person, Dr. Snow.” The subject spoke quietly, in a whisper just loud for him to hear. “You treat me so carefully, I barely feel a thing when you hold me.” 

It mistook his lightweight hands for kindness. Reality was that he was just wary about setting them off. 

“Does Dr. Gaul not treat you in the same manner?” The words came out softly from him. Reaching now the ankle of the subject, gloved hands reached down underneath the sole of its foot, lifting it up for better writing access. Instinctively, Project Prometheus placed their hands on either side of his shoulders so as to not fall. Their body leaned itself more into him, using him as a steady weight of support. The proximity of their small body bent over his, the glare of the fluorescent lights was entirely swallowed up, casting a dark shadow over him, blocking the light from reaching him. Could they feel, under their ragged fingers, the tenseness in his body at their action? If the subject wanted to, they could easily go in to attack him in this vulnerable position. He’d do the same if he was in their position. He continued to write, marker steady in hand. There would be no satisfaction to be gained for the subject, in seeing him stumble and cower. 

He wrote the words ‘abductor hallucis’ on their foot.

“She… does not treat me rough, no. If I had to describe it, I think the word for it is more… ‘inanimate’.” He doesn’t quite recall if a new law was passed that required captors to treat prisoners humanely. It sounded as if it was trying to recall certain words again. Should the exam go entirely smoothly with no problems, he might feel generous enough to convince Dr. Gaul to bring Project Prometheus a dictionary for them to study up on. Not like it would do much. It wasn’t like they had anyone to really practice their knowledge on. 

Coriolanus wondered what the prisoner was exactly before all this, back when they were formerly Capital. They lacked the air of dignity and ignorance that most Capital elites donned well, but maybe that could be attributed to their decay while staying here. Or perhaps the prisoner had come from a small, simple family. The kind that handled all the manual labor that the Capital never liked to speak loud about. The workers who were hardly ever seen, or acknowledged. That could explain why he never heard any recent fuss over a family’s child being ‘sent away’. No one would ever care for a background prop. 

It held onto his shoulders more tightly, as he adjusted the subject’s position. It didn’t want to topple over him. 

Project Prometheus's right foot now marked accordingly, he placed its foot back down on the rotten floor. Ready to reach his hand to hold onto their left, the subject moved without the need for his touch. The left leg was gestured forward for him. How sweet of them to realize a pattern. “I don’t mind it, though. As long as she still talked to me.” How fascinating. The subject was pacified by the easy act of conversation. Such a simple thing to be pleased by, Coriolanus could think they were joking. Regardless of how things were going so far, he still didn’t forget it. The bloodstains on the halls was something he could not erase so easily. That suggested, no, it told him, that Project Prometheus had something up their sleeve still. Though, nothing had occurred. Nothing had happened because they were still speaking to each other. Coriolanus continued to write on its foot. Lumbrical.

“...Do you get upset if she doesn’t speak to you?” 

He couldn’t help but ask. 

He wanted to know. He needed to know. 

“...I get lonely, and sad.” Was it trying to downplay its emotional reactions to him? “I wonder if it's because I did something wrong to upset her.” If a prisoner of his tried to fight back numerous times during their captivity, he’d get annoyed too. It was strange, though. Coriolanus knew that morals and values were of no concern for Dr. Gaul, especially against rebels. Any torture, punishment, placed on them was not seen as being done onto another person, but just another animal, a specimen in her collection. It would not be above Dr. Gaul to cut off a limb, or two, to get a prisoner to stop fighting. So… why not do the same here? Perhaps, this form of mental and emotional punishment was more lethal than he assumed. Another curious test from the mad woman, it was impossible to ever understand her whims. 

“Sometimes, I think it might be one of her tests.”

Coriolanus didn’t say those words. 

He didn’t like this. Such a statement, spoken so simply, brought him a sick swirl of unease. 

The movement of ink had halted, yet his mind continued to race. The thin hairs at the back of his neck stood at its ends, and he held tightly onto the marker in his hand. Quietly, carefully, he placed the plantar surface of Project Prometheus’s foot back down on the uneven tiles below the both of them. Reaching his hands up to his shoulders, where the subject’s extensor retinaculum were, he held onto it firmly. The subject put up no sign of objection. Sweat was slowly building up under the tight material of the gloves he donned on, but it was not a sweltering warmth. It was a cold, clammy sensation. 

“What do you mean by ‘one of her tests’?” Punctuating the words at the end, he kept his tone inquisitive, curious. Perhaps, a dabble of suspicion. Not towards the subject, but more towards the matter. What was needed in this situation was caution, and he’d be a gutted fool if he was to let the rebel become aware of how much the question startled him to his core. For right now, he’d play the gentle, confused assistant that it assumed of him before. He already told the lie of it knowing Dr. Gaul better than he did. 

“Her tests,” 

It spoke as if he knew! He knew very well what it was. What once was a flash of fear, had become a steady stream of anger. He knew because he is Dr. Gaul’s assistant. It was his job to follow in the steps she’s placed out for him, and more. Why would a prisoner, a subject, know about the ways Dr. Gaul operated? How much does Dr. Gaul tell it in these ‘conversations’? 

It made him sick, that the lie he told before could actually become true. 

“I never notice it until it’s done, until she tells me at the end. She never shares the results with me.” For once, he is tempted to strip his pride and beg for more details. “Most days, it’ll be physical tests, like today. Others, it’s more… talking, or writing.” 

“Writing?” 

It came out quickly before he could properly think his words over. He doesn’t recall seeing possible writing exams in Subject A01’s report. To be fair to himself, he did skim it briefly since he was only just now introduced to the project. There wasn’t much time for him to familiarize himself with all the tiny details written inside. At least, the things that were legible. 

“Dr. Gaul hands me scraps of paper and just asks me to write what I think. Like uh, a journal…I guess.” Keeping a diary couldn’t be the only test Dr. Gaul was having it do. If writing random streams of thought was enough to be intellectually challenging, he wouldn’t be seeing students at the University fighting to win passing grades. “I don’t understand the reason why, and I never remember what I write. My memory is not the best.” It was giving him an excuse to try and shift the conversation. How funny it was, trying to take control of the situation. He’d never let such a thing happen. In this examination room, there was only one person and a subject, the dynamic that was at play was clear. The grip Coriolanus had on their extensor retinaculum tightened, an unconscious movement on his part. Project Prometheus had taken in a soft breath of air at the action, the sound loud enough between the both of them. Had it not come from a prisoner, what a sweet sound it could’ve been. 

“Could you explain it to me,” His voice came out softly, despite the gnawing irritation that he held back. The tight grasp he had loosened, one hand stroking down a careful thumb down the stitched wrist of the subject in gentle circles. He shifted in his kneeled position, adjusting to a more comfortable weight as the layers he wore started to wear at him, an uncomfortable shift. Wearing the surgical uniform could be sweltering. Tilting his head up slightly to gaze up at the subject, praying that his eyes did not betray and reveal his inner thoughts. “Try to remember.” 

Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a slight falter, a tremble, in the dark optics of Project Prometheus. Its supercilium furrowed just the slightest inch upwards; did it look apologetic? The first visible change of expression he’s witnessed in the time he’s spent here in this examination room, and it’s one of regret. The subject’s fingers twisted itself into the fabric of his surgical gown, opening its mouth partially as they sought the right sound, the right word. He could make out the faint peeks of its canines. 

“... I’m sorry, Dr. Snow. I can’t remember at all,” They breathed out, in admission, surrendering. It treated it as a guilty confession. 

“Not a thing?” He whispered softly to them, prompting them to speak more. Coriolanus applauded himself internally, for how sympathetic he sounded. 

The subject shook its head. 

“My memory is not good.” Again, it reaffirmed its previous statement. 

Was his question that hard? Surely, specks of small details, flashes of imagery, that would be sufficient enough of an answer for him. He wasn’t asking for a full essay of their inner workings ( though, he wouldn’t mind it ). However, as both their eyes continued locked in a stare, his thumb slowed its movements. The leathered finger stopping at the center junction of its stitches, the feel of the raised, textured skin apparent under the feel of the material. Project Prometheus was being sincere. Its face hadn’t changed, its body had not moved away from him. Dare he say, the minimal space between them; something he did not mind earlier before, had become much more apparent in his feverish mind. The subject answered him so honestly, it made his suspicions of before seem so ridiculous now. One thing did nag at him though, the writing, the insistence of journaling, the memory. 

…

“... Do you remember how long you’ve been here?” Two years ago, Coriolanus recalled. Two years ago, that was when he was abandoned in District 12. When Dr. Gaul had started the experiment on Subject A01, busying herself with curiosities while he was drowning himself in depravities and vices, waiting out like a dog for some form of mercy to reach him. 

A new, tense silence consumed them both. He watched the subject carefully, taking note of the slightest movement that could give any indication of anything more. Tracing with his eyes, following how Project Prometheus’s cuspid snagged at their chapped bottom lip. A faint flush of red spread across the muscle, from the pressure exerted on it. Unconsciously, it reminded him of how dry his own mouth felt, the hoarse sensation in his throat. He darted out his own tongue for a brief moment to wet his own mouth, hidden underneath the surgical mask he wore. Nothing was being said between them, but yet there was so much being told. A fierce feeling was soaring, running through the veins of Coriolanus; he knew what it meant and he feared for it. Not for what the answer could be, but what it possibly could bring up. 

“You don’t remember how you got it here at all, do you?” His voice was so hushed, spoken as if taboo. It gave him the same feeling of it, the rush as the blood was entering his head and his heartbeat loud in his ears. 

A form of dissociative amnesia. 

Project Prometheus had developed gaps in memory due to an extended amount of isolation and exposure to severe trauma. It all clicked in Coriolanus’s head. He understood now what Dr. Gaul was attempting to achieve in her games with the subject. The tests, the daily conversations, the journal writing – Dr. Gaul was examining the subject’s mental decay as part of the Project’s ongoing research. Not only has the woman deteriorated and changed the way the prisoner’s nerves had worked, but their mind as well. Is continuing the Project even viable to do anymore? It was a form of punishment. Would it be ethical to operate on a being of flesh, when the subject no longer knew what it was being punished for? The question would most likely give Dr. Gaul a kick of joy. She loved to ponder questions worthy of debate. Coriolanus wouldn’t put it past the woman if she already gave the inquiry out to one of her classes in a lecture hall. 

“I vaguely do,” 

His eyebrows rose in interest. 

“But only in subtle feelings.” 

Nevermind. 

“I think I experienced some form of confusion. And bits of anger, too. Dr. Gaul… For a moment, I used to be so scared of her. Now, I can’t even remember the reason why.” 

Project Prometheus’s indifference, Coriolanus realized, it was not just solely based on apathy. What had become of it was a blank state, unsure of how to process things so the mind refused to process it all. But, it was still something highly susceptible to influences, shown in how Project Prometheus had become conditioned like Pavolv Dog, to associate Dr. Gaul’s silence with anger and disappointment, and her socialness with satisfaction and joy. It all was dawning on him. He could see it now, why Dr. Gaul was so disturbingly fascinated by this project. Gloved hands moved away from the subject’s wrist, and reached out to lay in gentle manner against the side of their bare thighs. The subject allowed him to, never raising a sign of objection. Could he teach it to experience anger once more, when he treated their body like this? Maybe discomfort, disgust, despair - he wanted to show their blank canvas of a mind what it felt like to fully immerse themselves in these ugly emotions. He knew why they were like this, but there still was a lingering crumb of vexation directed at the subject. Somehow, in their newfound state, they still felt far more free than he ever did; how they almost felt nothing, and he had to feel everything. 

And yet, there was another thought that touched him. He wondered, if he spent enough time with the subject, could he too, be able to condition them to other things. They thought of him as merciful, kind, in comparison to Dr. Gaul. Could he make Project Prometheus worship him, and in the same quiet breaths they were fond of, resent him? The thought of making them accustomed to anticipating his attendance, and lamenting his absence sounded tempting. 

How nice it would be, to have someone other than a deranged crone enjoy his presence. 

Tigris certainly didn’t anymore. 

Coriolanus rose himself from the ground, gripping on the meat of Project’s Prometheus’s flesh to lift him. Under his touch, the pliant stretch of skin and tissue made the subject remove their hands from his shoulders. Another faint breath escaped their exhale. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to. Back to their original height difference, he no longer had to crane his head up to look at the subject. The subject had to lift their head up to look up at him, now. What did Project Prometheus see, in their gaze as they stared at him, Coriolanus thought. Was he too, consumed in shadow and bathed under the gritty lights of the examination room like they once had? 

“We’re done with the mark-up.” It took him a moment to move away from the subject. “We’ll move to holding the nerve exam now, after I administer a low dosage of your medication.” 

The uncapped, black marker was placed back down on the metal tray, aside from the examination table. Replacing its empty space was now the syringe he had filled out before, the dark color swishing as he picked it up. The needle gleamed under the fluorescent light. Turning his back around, Project Prometheus had already sat themselves up nicely on the edge of the examination table for him. Their legs dangled off, their hands held at the edges of the worn-out leather cushion, eyes fixated on his person. They were waiting for him. He’s almost bothered, how easily the subject could anticipate his next set of commands. He hoped that this was just due to routine, not because he had become easy to read. Coming up to meet them there, the only sound that filled the air was the sole of his shoes stepping against the tiles. Gloved fingers reached to grab at the jaw of Project Prometheus, the syringe held close to their face. It shone particularly brilliant, mere inches away from their face. The subject showed him no fear, no resistance, despite the way the skin of the cheeks had moved under his grasp. 

Already, he wanted to break them.

“Show me where to inject you.” 

He’d be sweet, Coriolanus would let them pick where it was most comfortable for him to inject the medication in. Project Prometheus complied immediately to him, holding on the hand that held their needle to adjust the position. They guided him to the back of their neck, moving their hair to make space. To reward their compliance, he pricked the syringe quickly under the skin, careful not to touch an artery or nerve. The dark liquid inside the barrel slowly filled out, emptying itself as he pushed the plunger down. The subject did not let out a sound, a favorable contrast to Livia, who waited for him outside these Citadel walls. 

He was going to mold them into something useful.

[animeshotsh]

Family or so ~ Choso Kamo x Mom!Reader x (adoptive Yuuji!)

Summary: Being the non oficial mom of Yuuji and then meeting his brother.

● Manga Spoilers / Angst / Slight Canon Divergent / Fem!Reader / Reader is refered as "mom" / Fluff at the end / Grammar mistakes

When Choso first came into Yuuji's life you were on guard towards him. While being a professor in Jujutsu High you could not help but be protective over the students like they were your own kids.

Yuuji was your favorite one. Not only because of the fatal end he would have to face, but his personality made you see him more and more as your own blood.

One time he actually called you "mom" in front of the class, ending with him blushing and saying how sorry he was, and with Megumi and Nobara laughtning in the back.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

However you told him it was fine and that he could call you that if he wanted. Soon he forgot the inicial shame and just called you "mom" whenver he needed you, related or not to school, sometimes just for you to end seeing a movie with him.

It made a bond between you two stronger than any other bond you ever formed with other student, other professors saw this and would often do slight jokes about it (Gojo being the first one) but it never bothered you.

To you, Yuuji was your son.

Choso saw you as Yuuji's personal angel. Yes, the half curse was a bit jealous on how much his brother seemed to relay on you and not him. It was expected considering Yuuji anf You knew each other longer, however Choso still felt jealousy till Yuuji told him what you had done for him so far and how you were the first one he could see as a family after the death of his grandpa.

"Choso, today you die as a curse, go and live as a human and be sure to let (Y/N) know your feelings"

Choso started to see you in a different light, slowly growing feelings for you, it started as gratitute but as time passed they ended being romantic, these were more human, and made him feel like a human.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Saddly the jujutsu world did not wait for anyone. There was not a perfect or ideal moment for him to tell you. Even if Yuuji had his back and supported him, there was not a single time he could say the words to you, how much you mean to him, how gratefull he was for how you have took care of Yuuji.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Yuuji had lost too many people he cared for.

Nobara, Nanami, Junpei, Gojo, Megumi....only you and Choso still stood besides him, in his heart and at his side in the battelfield. He could only fight because of both of you, to prevent Sukuna for making the next curse era and to protect you from him.

"You know, once im done with you I will go for that woman you love so much, i will tear all her limbs apart"

"...mom?" Yuuji had lost his balance, falling to his knees seeing your body lay in front of him. Hot tears felt from him and on top of your face, however you had died with a smile knowing you had saved him.

Sukuna knew how much Yuuji loved you, he liked to torment him by telling him how he would kill you once he was done with him. But at the end, Sukuna did not kill you by torturing you, he killed you while you protected Yuuji.

The power of the technique blasted your already beated up body, but you did not care, not when your sacrifage had saved Yuuji from a fatal attack. Your mind did not register the moment death finally came, all you could see was the suprised face from Yuuji.

Im sorry Itadori

The next one Yuuji had lost was Choso.

Why? Why did he had to lose too many ? Was him cursed to die alone? Had him not suffer enough?

~☆~☆~☆~☆

He saw Choso burn out till death. But he never just like you, stopped smiling at him. He had seen your own sacrifage for Yuuji and could only swear his love for you got stronger at that point as well as his hate towards Sukuna.

Choso knew he was protecting his younger and dear brother, thats why he never stopped smiling at him.

The afterlife was...strange. A white space with nothing but you. You felt sadness, the chances of defeating Sukuna were not on your favor after Gojo's death. Yet everyone had tried their best, pushing till their limits.

Your only regret was leaving Yuuji behind, but your love for him had made you move to save him, you still had hope that he would be fine, because Choso was with him.

Suddendly all around you changed, now you a few feet away from a big table. Two figures were there too.

Oh Choso, how you have fallen for the curse. It was like being a teen again, you had to avoid him in order to not lose your toughts when he waw close. You wished the time was different, that Sukuna was not out causing chaos, that Gojo was still with all of you. Then maybe you could have tried to act on your feelings. You would see how much effort he would put in being Yuuji's older brother, it melted your heart and made you wish for a different life, once where no one had to suffer, one where you, Yuuji and Choso were together as a family.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

You were confused to say the least, their energy was unfamiliar yet there was no sign that they were going to hurt you.

"(Y/N)?" A very distinct voice called out to you in confusion. You knew without having to look back who was calling you.

"I- im sorry, I left Yuuji alone again" even from the distance you could see Choso small tears forming.

Slowly you turned to see the one who had your heart. Choso was there, and that could only mean one thing.

Sukuna had killed him and Yuuji was alone again.

Without saying a thing you took steps towards him, getting close, slowly lifting his head up and wiped his tears away.

"Choso, im sure you are here because you put Yuuji's life first....just like i did" You softly told him smiling when you saw him nod at you.

He then made something you were not expecting, he hugged you. Holding you close to his chest. He was cold, just like you, no breathing or heartbeat could be feel or noticed.

"I- i never thanked you for being there for him, for Yuuji. I left im alone, i tried to kill him"

"You did not know-"

"Yes, i did not know but i still did it. And you, you accepted me despite that, and left me enter his life. Me, a half curse"

"Choso, i can say, you are more human than you believe" you responded looking into his eyes. "And i believe Yuuji thinks the same"

Silence filled the space till Choso talked again.

"I want to reborn, i want to live a complete life with Yuuji, i want to teach him so much....and i want you to be by my side"

His last words were said in a whisper and with a blushed face, but you did listen to them.

"I promise Choso, in the next life we will"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Mooooom!! I cant find my shoes" A five year pink hair said appearing in the kitchen.

"Did you check your room?" You asked turning back finding the little sunshine nodding.

"Fushiguro will be here soon! Can you help me?"

Just as you were going to shut down the fire a tall figure appear behind the kid.

"Would i like to know why your shoes where in my room?"

"Choo-nii!! I forgot i left them there"

Just as Choso was going to softly scold his little brother for not being more organized the door bell ran.

"OOOOOOOOI!! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE FOR THE GAME!! I WANT TO CRUSH THE KYOTO KIDS" The voice of a white hair screamed.

"He knows is the kids that are playing right?" You joked to your Husband who just moved his shoulders not being sure anymore.

"Bye Mom!! Bye Choo-nii!!"

"Bye Baby!! Be careful and dont give Mr.Gojo a hard time" you yelled as the boy ran towards the door where a black hair kid with the most serious face and the adult besides him were waiting.

"You know....we should give Itadori a small brother or sister...he seems on the need of one" Choso casually said passing his arms around you.

"Yeah we should....WAIT WHAT?"

"....Dear the food is burning"

"Oh fuck! We will discuss this later mister!!"

3 years besides your husband and your adoptive Son Itadori.

Life could not be better.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas - Part II

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. Eventual nsfw, not this chapter. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

II. The Interminable Fucking Car Ride

“So…what do you do?”

“I run the marketing department for JD Power.”

“The car trophy people?”

“That’s a magazine.”

“Ah. So you’re the grand architect of big corporate’s bid to tell us what to think while slyly taking all our money.”

He snorts. “Only those who are incapable of thinking for themselves. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to apply to you.”

If you squint, that almost felt like he was paying you a compliment.

“So, what do you do?” he asks in turn.  

You don’t know why you’re almost embarrassed to tell him. “I run an art gallery/gift shop on the beach in Playa Bonita.”

He blinks, those lovely dark eyes fixed on you for a moment. “Of course you do.”

“What does that mean?”

He huffs a little. It almost sounds wistful, but then he frowns, utterly fucking ruining the moment.  “You just look the type.”

You’re not sure why that stings…or why you even give a fuck.

The Fucking Rehearsal Dinner

“I’ve never really understood the point of the rehearsal dinner. Is eating so hard we really have to rehearse it?”

You sense an almost twitch of the corner of Frank’s mouth. They have stuck you together at a table in the far back. The black sheep who they felt they had to invite, but didn’t really want to.

“Not to miss the opportunity to make the groom’s parents spend unnecessary money too?” Frank offers.

“Fair to spread the misery, I guess.”

“Didn’t you sue Keith over this shit?”

“My parents did. They lost thirty thousand dollars in deposits.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. No one should spend that kind of money on a wedding.”

“Strangely, I agree with you now. I didn’t know any better at the time.” You’d been so young, you could hardly even fathom how much thirty-thousand dollars was.

Your parents had been happy at the time with the prospect of marrying you off to Keith. He’d been successful, charming, and outwardly doting on you. They never really thought you had much going on your own, so they probably thought he was the best you could do. The thought still hurts, more than it should.

“I mean,” you blurt, “Did you know who you are or what you wanted when you were 20?”

“Of course not.”

“He was my whole world. When he dumped me. It...it really fucked me up.” You don't know why you're admitting this to this near total stranger. There is just something about his forthright manner that demands honesty. 

“Ah well, join the club. My father tried to shoot me once, if it makes you feel any better.”

You blink. “He tried to shoot you?”

“Yes. With a gun.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran at him.”

“You ran at him? Not away from him?”

“Yeah. Well, I was pissed off. He tried to shoot me again, but I got the gun away from him and hit him with it. Broke his orbital bone. He said I was the accumulation of all his bad decisions. He started to cry and begged me to kill him. I didn’t, only because I didn’t want to fuck my whole life up. The poor bastard jumped out the seventh floor the next day.”

Before you can stop yourself you reach out to place your hand on his on the table.

Before he can stop himself, his long fingers close around yours.

This connection endures for precisely 1.5 seconds before he shakes you off.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think your fine.”

“Fine, I’m all fucked up, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You sigh, sinking down in your chair, embarrassed. Why did you touch him? What were you thinking?

“I guess we’re in the club together,” you answer miserably.

You feel him looking at you out the corner of his eye. There is a weight to this man’s gaze. It’s not unpleasant, just…you feel as though he sees everything.

“I feel like we should get at least decoder rings or something,” he grumbles.

The bride and groom make their entrance, interrupting whatever acerbic thing you were going to say next. You watch as they make their way through the crowd, basking in the glow of being the center of attention. Keith always loved that shit. You hate to admit, that his bride to be is a solid stone cold foxy 10. The kind of woman that men will trip over themselves for as they walk down the street.

You weren’t bad looking but you’d never had that kind of power.

If you wanted to trip a man, you had to do the dirty work and actually stick out your foot.

“Oh, look at us, let us presume to inconvenience you with the ostentatious display of our love,” you mock quietly in a mousy little falsetto.

It actually makes Frank laugh. At least, you think it’s a laugh. Maybe it was indigestion.

He joins in, though forgoing the funny voice, “And we’re conceited enough to think we’re actually different from the rest of the human race, and our love will last forever and ever…”

You’re enjoying this malicious bit of fun, but there is something in the way that he says it that makes you pause. “You don’t think love can ever last?” you ask.

He snorts. “Well, he doesn’t. I heard the prenup she had to sign was brutal,” he tells you.

 “Poor thing.”

“You really feel sorry for her?”

“Slightly?”

“Are you going to say hello?”

You sigh. “I guess I fucking better.”

You slowly make to stand, the chair screeching under you. “Give ‘em hell, kid.”

You flip Frank the bird as you go, and hear that peculiar strangled sound that must pass for his outward expression of mirth.

Dumb ass free shit you would never do on your own

"I spoke to the bride last night."

“Indeed?”

You’ve had pedicures before, but you’ve never sprung for a professional foot massage, and you have to admit it feels pretty good. It totally surprised you to find Frank there, but he’d informed you unashamedly that he can’t resist free shit. You find that amusing, considering he’s obviously comfortable, if not outright rich.

Maybe that’s how he stays that way.

“Yes, and she told me she doesn’t mind that you’re here, and she’s not threatened by you.”

You snort at that, taking a long sip of your iced latte.

“At least, I think she meant you. She’s dumb as a box of rocks, it was hard to tell who or what she was talking about at times.”

You sigh at hearing that. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to soothe my feelings.”

It’s his turn to snort. “Merely reporting facts, I assure you. If you still feel badly about Keith and have not managed to move on to one of the other 8 billion people on this planet, then there is no helping you.”

“Is that your method for getting over a bad breakup?” He makes it sound so easy, you cannot help but roll your eyes at him.

“No, I have opted out of that shit show. It makes me uniquely qualified to offer comment on your own situation.”

You tilt you head in confusion, looking over at him. “You’ve…opted out of what? Dating? Romance? Marriage?”

“All of the above. It never ends well, as I have learned from watching my mother’s train wreck of a life as she blithely stumbled between marriages and boyfriends and suitors.”

“That’s so sad,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

If you hadn’t already started to learn this man’s gestures, you would have missed the way he stiffened slightly, staring fixedly down at his feet.

“How many times have you been in love?” he asks.

You think about it, and regret the answer. “Just the once.” With Keith, the asshole. Any one who came after didn’t have much luck getting over the wall you built to protect yourself from another heartbreak.

He looks at you then, and you are pinned by those chocolate brown eyes, that for once seem earnest rather than annoyed. “What’s it like?”

The fact that this man, who is at least ten if not fifteen years your elder, is asking you tears your heart into little bits of confetti.  

“It’s like going insane,” you answer truthfully, and he looks back down, frowning.

“I thought so.”

***

You are standing in your inflatable body bumpers together on the sidelines, declining to partake in this insane sport, content to watch the others attempt to inflict cervical injuries on themselves and others.

The question is eating at you, and you decide what the hell. What’s he going to do? Be mean to you?

“So, you’ve never been in love?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, frowning, though it’s the same frown he’s been wearing for the past hour watching the idiots running around the field.

“Believe me, you would know.”

“Do insane people know they’re insane?”

“Ok, maybe that was a bad comparison. It’s…total surrender.”

“Wow, you’re really talking it up.”

“It is though. You have these special feelings for a person, and you just know whatever they do to you, it won’t matter, because you’ll still care for them.”

“It doesn’t matter, until it does matter.”

“Some people have higher tolerances for pain than others.”

“If you loved Keith you could probably take a Caesar-style stabbing without flinching.”

You’re not sure how exactly to respond to that.

“At any rate. I prefer to avoid pain rather than withstand it. My parents inflicted quite enough. No need to spread it around.”

“Alright, I get it that your parents sufficiently traumatized you, with the failed marriages and the…shooting thing. But doesn’t there come a point where you have to let it go and rise above it?”

“I don’t see any reason to.”

“Think about all your missing out on though.”

“What exactly is that?”

“You know…human connection. The things that make life worth living.”

“Jesus, are you sure you don’t work for Hallmark?”

“Positive.”

“I bet you sell rocks in your shop that have inspirational words carved in them.”

“Of course I do. The markup on those things is astronomical.”

You see him smirk out the corner of his eye.

“I bet you also sell little statues of big-eyed children slinging bible verses.”

“Ohhh, now those are fighting words, sir.” You bump him lightly with your inflatable tutu, making him shuffle a step. For a fleeting moment, you catch a hint of a smile, and it feels like a resounding victory.

Feeling bold, you fix him with an earnest stare. “You claim you’ve opted out of this mess. But what if you meet someone you really like?”

“Then I should probably run swiftly in the opposite direction,” he says, paying you a side-eyed look.

Five minutes later, he does quit the field, though he doesn’t quite run from it. You tell your self that it’s just a coincidence, and that he was just done standing in a polyvinyl orb in this heat.

But deep down…there is the tiniest kindling of something in your heart, and you know you should kick dirt over that shit and stomp on it.

You don’t, and you carry a ridiculous little light feeling with you as you return to the hotel.

It feels like you swallowed a butterfly.

[yanderecrazysie]

I really love your writing especially the angsty one such as the most recent one. Related rant but I hated most movies where the FL(Female lead) would start as cliche “ugly girl” with glasses and Terrible fashion and in the middle of the movie she takes her glasses off and suddenly become the “pretty” girl and then have a whole scene where they do a make over to make her charm the whole school. It just felt superficial and very vain, like the FL was fine the way she was, glasses don’t make you ugly as if paired with right outfit, can make you look actually cute. After all glasses are there to help you see, the fl suddenly gets her vision fix when she has her make over? And its really rubs me the wrong way that you need to have a whole make over, with a pretty dress and everything just to get people to like you. And its also pretty disheartening to see that people won’t like you if you have acne, like it natural to have acne and you shouldn’t be shamed for it.

But unto the actual request itself: can I have yandere Oikawa (or atsumu miya) x reader with this related context in mind: The reader has a crush on oikawa and with the advice of a friend, she stops wearing her glasses and does a whole make up and hair routine just to catch Oikawa’s attention. It works and one thing leads to another and both reader and oikawa start dating. At first Reader is ecstatic to finally the man of her dreams but slowly she starts to become uncomfortable with the way she looks like she no longer recognize herself. The make up starts to feel itchy and unnatural to her skin and she starts bumps into thing due to her not wearing her glasses anymore. Despite reader being miserable she till persevere and try to keep up the facade of “Oilawa’s ideal girl” but as time goes on the need to please Oikawa and the stress of keeping up appearances finally gets to her and she just breaks up with him.

On Oikawa perspective (being an entitled prick) is obviously dismayed as he wanted to have the perfect facade of a power couple. He wanted to shape the reader into his ideal pretty girl. So both reader and him have a mutual break up since both of them are now dissatisfied with the current predicament. But as oikawa sees the reader old self, he starts to fall in love (or obsessed) he finds the reader’s glasses cute and he finds that the reader is even more adorable when she comfortable and happy. Like he finds the reader more attractive when she was being her typical self without the glitz and glam. Like even if the reader has acne and wears dorky glasses, Oikawa finds that strangely attractive.

-Sorry for the mini rant, I just recently watch a movie similar to this and it left a bad taste in my mouth. Like as person with both acne and glasses, I’ve been told by some people that I stop wearing glasses due to it not “suiting me” like I wasn’t wearing it for fun, I wear it cause I need to see. Its even worse when I had acne and my friends told me to hide it with make up only to find out that make up worsens the acne problem. Thanks for listening to me

I totally get what you mean- I always found glasses attractive on guys and adorable on girls (to the point that I tried to pretend I had reading issues as a child to get myself glasses), so it was always sad to see it portrayed as “Now that she’s taken them off, she’s pretty!” I think everyone looks nice in their natural way, no makeup needed, so makeovers have always rubbed me the wrong way a little too! I personally don’t wear any makeup at all, too much of a hassle.

Title: Change

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: You don’t like your new look, but it’s gotten you so much attention. Do you really have to choose between your old look and your happiness?

Part 2: here

change

/verb/

make (someone or something) different; alter or modify:

You looked in the mirror, stunned by your reflection. Your glasses were gone, the contacts in your eyes being the only reason you could see that fact in the first place. But besides that, your hair had been swept back in a pretty bun with a braid on either side of your head and just a couple locks of hair fashionably left down. Your skin looked flawless, thanks to the makeup. You could thank the makeup too for the way your face looked so much more mature and alluring.

Your wardrobe had undergone a great change as well. Since your college didn’t have a uniform or strict dress code, you’d put on a short white dress with black stripes and a belt around the waist. A fake diamond necklace laid across your collarbone, perfectly matching the bracelet clasped around your wrist. Even your feet were squeezed into a pair of fashionable black slips.

You turned back to your friend in awe, “You’re a miracle worker!”

Your friend laughed, but it was nothing short of the truth. Before this, your hair was always left down, hanging over your glasses-adorned, lightly pimpled face. You never wore a dab of makeup and your clothes usually amounted to an oversized T-shirt, faded jeans, and ratty sneakers. You didn’t put any care into your appearance. Until now, that is.

“You’ll have to keep this up on your own, now that you know how,” your friend reminded you, wagging a warning finger at you, “But this will totally grab Oikawa’s attention! You’ll be his girlfriend by the end of the week!”

You were turning heads from the moment you walked through the school doors. How could you not? You were a gorgeous girl accentuated with the latest fashions and professionally done makeup. All you had to do was bat your long, fake eyelashes and guys would throw themselves at your feet.

Your friend was right. You’d caught Oikawa’s attention very quickly, and soon enough, he was blowing away the sudden competition by offering to carry your lunch tray and walk you home.

The attention flustered you and made you so happy, but a small part of you felt sad. He’d never noticed you before. But that was the point of this makeover, right? To get him to finally look your way? 

When Oikawa had asked you to meet him by the fountain in the courtyard, you knew exactly what he was going to ask you. You pretended to be surprised anyway, completely shocked and honored by the question.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

From that moment on, you were the school’s power couple. Everyone regarded you with awe or jealousy. “Oikawa and (Y/n)” became synonymous with “popular” and all of his friends, the people you’d looked at with envy not long ago, welcomed you to their table and inner circles.

But as time went on, you felt yourself drifting away. Oikawa always talked about appearances and critiqued you whenever your hair or makeup wasn’t perfectly in place.

It felt fake.

Your makeup, your sense of style, your relationship, everything felt so unbearably fake.

Like you were no longer yourself.

Every time you looked in the mirror, your heart sank. You didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. Being perfect had somehow become something that you despised. 

But whenever you brought up wearing your glasses again or dressing down, Oikawa wouldn’t hear of it. “What would everyone think of that?” “You have to look your best.” “We’re a power couple, sweetheart, we don’t wear things like glasses, okay?”

The stress began to tug at you until you could take it no longer. One look in the mirror on a fateful Monday morning that already hadn’t been going well and you were done.

You had to be true to yourself, even if that meant no longer being “perfect” or popular. Even if it meant losing Oikawa, who didn’t even feel like a boyfriend. More like a costar on a filming set.

That was a good way to put it- your life had become a movie and you were just an actress putting on a show. Caked in makeup and forcing a smile.

Dear Oikawa,

I can’t do this anymore. I want to go back to the way things were before we started dating. I know we already talked about how that won’t work for you, so I understand that means we’re breaking up. I’m sorry, but I think this is best for me.

Love,

(Y/n)

It felt good to undo the bun and braids. It felt even better to slide your glasses up your nose and slip on a simple, comfy T-shirt. Nostalgic might be the best word for what you were feeling, but either way, you were more comfortable than you had been in months. Why had you ever given this up?

You looked in the mirror and smiled. You’d washed off all of the makeup, revealing more than a few blemishes, but you didn’t care. You liked the way you looked and you’d be damned if you went back to drawing on your face every morning.

It was strange walking into school that morning. It was like you’d become invisible. No longer did people turn their heads to look at you, nor did you walk alongside Oikawa. But it didn’t feel lonely. What was the point of having a boyfriend when it was just for appearances? You’d always felt like there were miles between you both- as though you couldn’t reach him even with your fingers intertwined.

Your first class was with Oikawa and you weren’t looking forward to it. He might be mad, after all, that his “power couple girlfriend” dumped him and went back to looking nerdy. You chose your old seat, one near the front of the class, instead of the back row where all the “cool people” sat.

When Oikawa entered the classroom, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you as though he couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t blame him- you looked completely different than he was used to. You were actually surprised he even noticed you.

He walked closer and you shrank into your seat a little, not looking forward to a confrontation. But to your shock, he slid into the seat next to you, dropping his backpack on the floor and pulling his stuff out of it, settling into the desk as though he’d always sat there.

“What are you doing?” You blurted out.

When Oikawa turned to you, he studied you with great interest, as though you were an art piece in a museum. There was a tinge of pink on his cheeks, something he’d never had when the two of you were dating.

“Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Oikawa crooned, reaching a hand out to your face.

You jerked away, startled and confused. What was with this sudden change in behavior?

“You know, you never really officially broke up with me,” Oikawa shrugged, a creepy, possessive grin curling across his lips, “And even if you did…”

He turned to you, eyes dark with something you couldn’t place. Something that chilled you to the bone.

“I wouldn’t accept it.”

[thelittleliars]

Silence (1/4)

Warnings: angst; hurt

Words: 1.2K

Summary: You accidently coming out destroyed a decade long friendship.

AN: Thanks for all the love on my first story "New Year"! I didn't proofread this one so be warned. This might get a Part 2 with a happy ending but I'm not sure.

[Part 2: Second Chance]

"Movie night later?" You asked Natasha at the dinner table where all the Avengers sat with you.

Natasha nodded her head and smiled at you widely. "Sure. But it better be a horror movie." You loved horror movie nights with her. Neither of you were scared of them but you both laughed at ridiculous scenes and cuddled anyways. 

"So tell me Y/N," Sam interrupted your conversation. "What's going on between you and black widow?"

You looked at him baffled. Natasha and you were friends ever since you both worked at shield together so you didn't get why he implied that more is between you two. "What?" You said.

"Oh come on, you two are super close, doing almost everything together, cuddle all the time, go out, wear each other clothes... there has to something going on between you two." Sam's hint at you liking girls had you shifting in your seat. It was true that you were into girls but you haven't told a soul. Wanda was the only one who might found out about it since she couldn't control her mind reading powers when she first joined the Avengers.

"We're just friends." You told him, with anxiety slowly creeping up on you. The whole team started to listening in on the conversation. "I swear we're just friends." 

"Are you sure that you don't wanna date her?" He wiggled his eyebrows. His words and behavior infuriated you. And with this rage mixed with anxiety, you unknowingly came out to the entire team. "Just because I like girls doesn't mean that I instantly want to date my female friends." 

Some looked shocked, others looked as if they had suspicions and then there was Yelena who looked happy, proud even. "Ha! So I wasn't crazy when I saw Y/N Y/L/N ogle that one girl at the mall months ago. Pay up Kate Bishop." She exclaimed excited. You blushed after hearing Yelena's words, thinking you were subtle checking girls out.

Natasha, who sat next to you, was brooding. She didn't like it one bit that you hadn't told her about your sexuality first. She felt hurt. Did you think she would judge you or not accepting you for liking girls? Were you afraid of losing your (Avengers) family? Or did you simply not trust her with that kinda stuff? You had never held yourself back before so why right then?

"Alright but do you have a girlfriend already or can I be your wingman?" You blushed and hid your face in your hands. "No help needed." You barely got those words out. "Lady Y/N, you have to introduce us to them!" Thor demanded in excitement.

"We've only been on a couple of dates." You blushed further. "Plus she's not out yet so I rather not drop any names." Thor was quiet understanding and dropped the topic. You were honestly glad for that since it ended the whole conversation about you. The topic now was about Tony and Pepper. 

You shifted back your attention to the Widow next to you who was acting strange. Her body language was awkward and you hoped once the movie night started it'd get better. But you were wrong, it got worse, the air between you two was thick and non of you uttered a word about the incident at dinner. 

The red head distanced herself even more from you after the movie night. It hurt you deeply, the pain only got worse with how hard you tried to fix whatever happened, but nothing good came out of it. Natasha shut you out so easily that you overthought your whole relationship with her. In the end you came to the conclusion that you never really knew her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost 2 months since the coming out incident happened, while you and Natasha's relationship were in pieces, your relationship with the other ex-shield agent thrived. But you missed the red head dearly. You missed her warmth that radiated off of her when you two cuddled closely during movie nights. Her touch on your arm whenever she was excited to show or tell you something. You even missed her awful dry jokes she made to cheer you up. But all that was left was her ghostly presence which seemed to never leave your side. Not matter what you did, her ghost lingered every single second.

You felt heaviness inside of you as sat down on the bench in the training room, and the spot next to you is empty. Training was no longer fun when you didn't have your favorite person train with you. It felt as if the universe was against you when you saw Natasha enter the training room. What she did here at this unholy hour was beyond you. It made your mood even more sour. 

"Steve said you'd be here." She spoke up. "He said we need to spar again. So move your ass."

Your body hesitated to get up but eventual did with a heavy sigh. Exhaustion was written all over your face. Natasha was already in the ring, waiting for your slow ass to join. Both of you took your stand but non of you tried first to make a move. You both danced around each other which irritated Natasha immensely. She expected a move from you long ago since that was how you always started sparring with her. 

Her irritation turned into frustration and anger fast. And did something she probably will regret for the rest of her life. "Trouble in paradise with Agent Shaw?" She taunted you. "Saw some spicy video of hers the other day." 

That got your complete attention. You knew about Agent Shaw's private video which her ex boyfriend leaked years ago. The video recently surfaced once again and you tried your best to take it down forever. You even begged Tony for help, who was glad to finally have a small challenge again. It took him some time but it was finally gone now but apparently not before the Black Widow saw it.

"Okay..?" What else were you supposed to say to the women you once knew perfectly.

"I have a copy and I'm sure you have one too but in case you don't, I'm willing to-" She got cut off by you punching her in the face. You didn't meant to punch her this hard but you were fed up with her bullshit. 

The blow of the hit was so unexpected and hard that she fell on the ground. She looked up at you stunned as hell, her eyes fluttered a bit while her bottom lip started to bleed.

"What the fuck Natalia." The sight of woman on the floor, looking so helplessly broke your heart once again. You were fighting so hard to get the friendship back that now by realizing your friendship was broken beyond repair, thanks to her behavior, was pain on a whole different level. What you were about to feel is grief from the loss of a decade long friendship. 

Your heart and mind fought against each other but you had enough. Every single bad emotion was roaring in you as you silently said your final goodbye. Also with that, the ghost of hers that you felt all the time, disappeared. 

The silence that hung in the air after you left was loud, it started to suffocate Natasha in a way she didn't know existed. How did she let herself become a monster again? Didn't she learn from her past? No thought in the world would help her in this situation because at the end, nothing mattered anymore since it was her silence that broke you two apart.

[romancefranaticstay]

💖´ •.¸♥¸.•* Magnets*•.¸♥¸.•´💖

(◍•ᴗ•◍) ミ💖 ꜍C꜉꜍a꜉꜍t꜉꜍e꜉꜍g꜉꜍o꜉꜍r꜉꜍y꜉꜍:꜉ ꜍F꜉꜍L꜉꜍U꜉꜍F꜉꜍F꜉ 💖彡

Han Jisung x reader (Y/N)

'You know that Jennie alreaddy found her soulmate?'

'How is that possible?!'

'I don't know.'

'I am looking for mine, for the past year. The past YEAR!'

'You will find your soulmate, i promise. Just take a chill pill.'

'You are easy talking Ashly. You alreaddy found yours.'

'Hey, i just got lucky.'

'Lucky bastard.'

'Cmon have some hope.'

'Yeah, like i still have that.'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ミミ◦❧◦°˚°◦.¸¸◦°´❤•.¸♥ 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓮𝓽 ♥¸.•❤´°◦¸¸.◦°˚°◦☙◦彡彡

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting in the back row. Your books placed in a very particular way. Your professor was sitting at his desk, sipping from his coffee.

Actually he was sipping way to loudly, it annoyed you. You saw other students started to come inside.

Suddenly you saw somebody. You never saw him here before. Maybe a new student? Could be? He turned his head around and immediatly saw you.

Your eyes connected like magnets, you couldn't let go off his eyes. He stared into your soul, you kinda liked it.

He came up to the back room and sat next to you.

Your body shivered, and your two body's wanted to touch eachother. There was like a sort of power field which tried to connect you two. The weird tense between you two started to grow. Your hand tried to reach out for his, but you controlled it.

'I am Y/N.' you suddenly said. 'And you are?'

In your mind, a little voice said: Han.

'I am Han, Han Jisung.'

That was problaby a lucky guess of yours.

'Cool name.' you smiled.

'Are you new here?'

'Yes, i am.'

'You know people here?'

'No, not really.'

'You can stick with me, like a magnet. If you want to ofcourse...'

'Sure, thank you Y/N.' you both smiled at eachother.

When the less started, you couldn't keep your hands away from him. One moment, you felt his hand next to yours. One time he suddenly grabbed your hand.

After 30 minutes he realised he was holding your hand.

'I am sorry.' he whispered.

'Its okay.' you winked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ミミ◦❧◦°˚°◦.¸¸◦°´❤•.¸♥ 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓾𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽 ♥¸.•❤´°◦¸¸.◦°˚°◦☙◦彡彡

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You two became close friends, because there was this weird tense between you two. It was easier to connect because of it. You both also had a sense of humor. A match-made in heaven you can say.

In the past week, weird situations happend. Let me explain...

It was very strange, when you felt pain, he also did. You felt joy, he was happy. You were secretly crying in your dorm, his eyes were red. It was very very strange, but you never thought something about it, untill now...

Today you were chilling with Lee Know and Changbin. Just watching a movie, eating some popcorn. Very unhealthy, but what does it matter?

'I don't get it, why are people in horror movies always so stupid.' Lee Know complained.

'Appartently, they like to die.'

'I would fight them, but nobody would harm me, mister cutie pie.'

you and Lee Know rolled your eyes.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

'I will open.'

'Okay.' Changbin said with a moutfull of popcorn.

You went to the door and opened it. By your susprise, you saw Han standing there. In a green sweater. h

'Oh hey Han. Watcha doing?'

'I am bored, can i stay with you?'

'Yeah sure, but you problaby mean me, Changbin and Lee Know.'

'They are here?"

'Yeah we watching a scary movie!'

'Cool!' he jumped in excitement.

You laughed, because it was kinda... cute...

You were sitting on the couch, covered by a blanket. Lee Know was getting more snacks because Changbin ate them all. You saw Han sitting on the cold floor.

'You can sit with me.'

'Hey psst, Han!'

'Yeah, sorry what did you say?'

'You can sit next to me. Under the warm blanket!'

'You don't need to- you know nevermind.' he jumped into the couch under the blankets.

'This blanket is so soft!' he says stunned.

'I have two of them!'

'Really?! Gimme it!'

'Here catch!' you threw it in his face, kind of.

'Thank you.'

All four of you were watching the scary movie. As always Lee Know complained about the tiny little stuff. Changbin stared with big eyes. You and Han were very close to eachother. Just staring open-mouthed towards the screen.

Suddenly you both got a jumpscare of the sudden scene. He wrapped his arms around your waist. You stayed in that position for about 20 minutes. The warmth of his body made you calm. You observed his facial features. His eyes were so beautifull and his lips so full. You wondered how they felt... were they soft?

Were his hands soft? On your body.... you gasped of the thoughts. Slapping your face.

'What is wrong?'

'Nothing, nothing. I am just *yawn* so tired. I am going to mine bed, y'all can watch the movie further.'

'Oww... you sure?'

'I am sure. Goodnight you three.'

You never had such dirty thoughts...

You layed down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Not even 5 minutes had passed and you wanted to go back... back to Han... Hannie.

You looked at your door, wanting to go back into his arms. You missed his warmth.

You stood up and walked over towards your door. You opened it and bumped into someone. You looked up and saw two beautifull brown eyes staring at you.

'Han, what are you doing here?' you asked. Your hands placed on his chest.

'Your eyes are beautifull.'

'What?'

'Nothing.. Can i come in?'

'Sure sure.' you smiled

'Wow your bed is big!'

'Yeah.'

He ran and jumped into it.

'So soft.'

you giggled.

'Come lay next to me.'

you ran and jumped into the blankets.

You layed on the bed and looked towards the ceiling. You could feel Han's movements next to you. Suddenly he placed his head in his hand and looked at you. You noticed his eyes on your body.

'What are you looking at?'

He came closer to you . You felt his breath against your cheek.

You observed his lips. Looking from his eyes towards his lips. Maybe he will understand the hint. Your hands wandering on his chest.

His face was maybe a inch away from yours. His hands on your waist.

You cupped his face and brought your two lips together. Melting away from the taste of his tongue. The kiss was firm and soft, but it started to get more sloppy and wild. You wanted him here, right now. Not wanting to waste any time.

'Gosh Y/N, i cannot stop touching you.' he said.

His hands cupping your cheek. Looking through your eyes like its nothing. The connection between you two was so strong, you couldn't understand.

He connected his lips with your again, this time a bit roughly but still soft. His hands on your waist and your hands embracing his neck. Your tongues swirling together. Your hands wandering under his shirt to feel his muscels.

You heard his whimpers when your touched his tummy. It felt weird to have so much power. His hands interwined with yours and he pinned you against the matress. His tongue exploring the inside of your mouth. He founded your little moans adorable.

With one of his hands he pinned both of your arms on the matress, but the other one started to reach under. His hand found a way in your panties. Your fold were alreaddy wet of his touch and feeling.

'Oh baby, baby alreaddy so wet for me.' his finger slipping in your folds. You could feel his bulge grinding against your pussy.

'Oh Hannie.' you moaned into his mouth. Gripping into his arms. Suddenly he started to play with your clit much faster than you exspected. Your back arched and moans escaped from your mouth.

'I-i am ab-bout to-.' suddenly he stopped.

'I want you to cum all over mine cock baby.' your hands reached over to his belt, undoing it as fast as possible and pulling his pants and underpants down. His cock was big, but like big big. He threw his shirt to the ground. Your eyes were fixated towards his tiny waist.

He took his hard lenght towards you entrance. Sliding into you with a groan. His hands pining yours again on the matress. You let out a moan because of the stretch.

'S-so tight baby.' he groaned. He started to pump into you slowly. Never breaking eye contact. He loved your bright red cheeks. You looked so adorable under him. Overwhelming with pleasure. Your brain couldn't think straight anymore.

He pace started to get a bit faster. His kisses were this time sloppy but still you enjoyed it. His wet hair strands were tickling your face. He started to pump faster and faster into you. Your hands went into his hair.

'Oh, hannie, i-i can'-t.' your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your tongue sticking out of your mouth like a puppy. One of his hands went to cup your cheek, while he pumped into you.

'D-darling, y-you are doing so great.' his attention only focusing on you. His eyes were so beautifull. His sweatty body on yours. You let your arm hang and started to rub against your own clit. The feeling was so overwhelming that you cummed without any warning.

He stayed pumping into you untill he came with a big groan.

He gave you a sloppy kiss again. His hands embracing your body. You could feel his warmth, you could smell his perfume. After he cleaned you up and himself.

You hugged into the crook of his neck, you both decided to stay naked. To feel eachothers body completly.

'I love you baby, so much.' he whispered.

'I love you more.' you kissed his cheek. Your legs wrapping around his waist. Both willing to stay like this forever.

Forever, together.

Nothing would seperate you two.

Cupido would take care of that.

´·.✴¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓭¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

MINE REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN, SO ASK WHATEVER YOU WANT!!!

Love you all!

xoxo

Rachel

@ontito0icongirls

[factual-fantasy]

28 ASKS! :DD THANK YOU!! 🍪

@spiritflower-galaxy (Thank you! :DD)

WAIT HANG ON NO NO--

I'm not getting into cookie run! I don't play the games or know any of the lore. Nor am I particularly motivated to really learn much about it on my own time..

I want to clarify that I just really liked the art style! <:D All the colors and themed characters,, it looked really fun! So I scraped together all the knowledge I needed to make some characters for it and then stopped there..

Now I'm not against people rambling in my ask box and doing all the lore research for me.. 👀💅.. just saying that I'm not going out of my way to learn the cookie run lore on my own time- <XDD

(Post in question)

I didn't have a name in mind for him, no.. :(( though he might be named something moth related. If I could access my files- I would have shown you that he was meant to have moth wings! :00

@youlikwjazz004

I haven't seen chapter 3 or any of the angst about it.. <:( sorry!

@taizarack (Post in question)

XDD She really is a goblin. And because she is the most powerful member of the group, no one can really tell her no-

Daww, thank you!! :DD

@drawingdragon7

I've thought about that! :0 I just never got around to drawing it <XDD 💔 Some kind of leather pads that they tie to his feet. Kind'a like cursed horseshoes <XDD

Thank you so much!! 🥰🥰 I wish the same for you!! :}}

.. well? Does she taste good? :0 I imagine a cookie with tomato and meat in it wouldn't taste the best-- XDD

:DDD Thank you! :}}

XD Everything is a 10/10 to her!

@catpop12343

:DD THANK YOU! I'm glad you like what you see! :}}}

@couchwow

I love the art style! And wow, Bluey?? Bingo?? Who let you two into the radiation cabinet?-- XDD /pos

Idk if they would necessarily.. bond.? Over their similar traumas?.. but perhaps there would be a level of understanding between them.

Like, if Papyrus has these strange specific fears or habits due to his trauma. No one would know how to handle it, or understand it better than Jevil could.

....Maybe that's exactly what you meant by bonding over their trauma and I'm just dumb-- <XDD

And how easy it was to dispose of them. Thats haunting XD

(Post in question)

Thank you! :D And aw, what a shame. I had a lot of fun with that movie :(

@raptor1312

XD Well I'm not into the games exactly-- but thank you! I'm very glad to hear that you like my OCs!! :DDD

(Post in question)

Aw, I'm really sorry actually. I felt the same way in the end. I felt like having this really creepy and twisted story with Papyrus as the focus was interesting and fun!.. But not giving him any kind of salvation.? That made it not fun anymore. It was just plain sad. :(

And don't worry about the "possible" part. Its totally canon now XD Papyrus canonically gets yoinked from his sad AU and finds peace with his new friends. :)

As for Seam and Jevil, its.. complicated.

They kiiind'a keep him at arms length..? And its mostly due to the trauma they associate with him and the fact they feel so bad for having abandoned him. They just don't know what to say..

But of course, Papyrus has such a big heart. He fully understands that they're not super comfortable around him just yet. So he kindly gives them space and avoids the subject around them.

Not to worry though. Eventually the tension will dissolve and he will build true friendships with the both of them. :)

@chickenheadguy

Its nice to not have to do any of the research myself I tell you what! XDD

@citrusfruitman

XDD Ok so the story with that is-- in my Sister Location AU I'm thinking that William Afton is using his circus as a front to go from town to town murdering kids..

What I mean about Funtime Freddy being safe to hug "for now".. is that I haven't fully decided if I want William to murder kids by having the animatronics snatch them up.. Ooorr if he just uses them/the circus as one big lure and distraction and does all the murdering himself.

So far I kiiind'a like the idea that the animatronics are innocent and aren't used as tools to murder kids. But that could change. So Freddy is safe to hug!.. For now.. :)

If they somehow ended up there they'd probably just hide in the shadows. If it seems safe and they can find food? They'll stay a while! :}

(Post in question)

Same here! Ngl I was expecting a negative response to those drawings. Considering how insane the movie is- Glad I'm not the only one who had fun with the movie or at least saw its potential! :D

@butshesgotthespirit

:DDD THANK YOU!!! I'm so glad you like how I reimagined them!! :}}

XD I remember that ask, I shall respond to this one with the same images!

"But you haven’t seen my face before..

…right….?"

(WOW these drawings are old. Bibi isn't even there! <XD💔)

@oliepoki

I wish I actually had anything to tell you XD those 3 characters are a bit underdeveloped--

So far though I've planned that Urchin and Cuttlefish are besties. Think Bratty and Catty from Undertale..? I had plans for Cuttlefish to be an experienced pirate that came from another crew. She somehow became indebted to Seafoam and by the time she paid her debt.. she was really attached to the crew. So she stuck around.

Though with her personality being sly and crafty.. I would expect her to find a way to slip through the crew fingers and escape instead of paying her debt. Soooo that backstory might be given to another character or at least has to be altered in some way..

For Spider Crab I'm playing around with the idea that he is the crews medic. Also I think him, Louis and Octo would be friends. I can see Louis always dragging Spider into doing fun activities with the rest of the crew XD Also Him and Octo are close becuase they both understand/respect each others space... that and Octo isn't loud and obnoxious like Louis is XDD

That's unfortunately all the info those characters have atm.. thank you for taking interest in them though! :DD It makes me very smile :}}

GASP!! :000 THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :}}} Right back at you!! :DD 👉👉✨✨✨

[evilpenguinrika]

Okay so I had another thought about Descendants Rise of Red

Under read more cuz it's gotten a tad long. Also spoilers.

Throughout the movie, I legit thought that Uliyana was a red herring with the whole horrible prank on Bridget that made her turn from a sweet girl into a tyrannical leader because of what Ella said about it when QoH was staging the coup.

Like I DON"T KNOW to me it felt like they were setting up Ella as the person who actually did the prank (maybe against her will or was just part of a group that decided to do it and she just stayed quiet and went along with it despite not vibing with the prank at all).

And then we got introduced to Uliyana and her group and like they very clearly obviously had her set up as the one responsible (even though I was still under the impression that she was still a red herring and it was actually Ella)

But no

It... It was Uliyana

I felt like the writers had such a perfect opportunity to dive just a little deeper into the complexities of high school drama and high school cliques and teenagers. Because yeah, teenagers can be so incredibly cruel and so incredibly mean. And like, I kinda also assumed it was like your typical dumb love triangle bs with Bridget Ella and Charming as well and maybe that's why Ella did the prank idk. Like the two girls are interested in him but it's also a little more apparent that Charming is interested in Bridget and maybe Ella got jealous. And with how horrible her home life is, she just wanted something for herself for once and had a horrible lapse in judgment in playing a mean prank on Bridget.

And like if you think about it, how horrifying is it to discover your one and only friend stabbed you in the back and humiliated you for selfish reasonings (or maybe other reasonings) and that's how she became the QoH, which could tie back into that song about how love ain't it or whatever it was called, like it would further emphasize just why QoH is the way that she is and why she finds the notion of love and trusting humans/humanity so asinine because she had something horrible happen to her, a trust and betrayal, that has since hardened her heart.

Idk if this made any sense I'm just word vomiting at this point

like IDK THEY HAD A PERFECT SET UP. ULIYANA WAS LIKE A CLEAR RED HERRING (kinda like first movie with snatching of the wand and ppl thought it was Mal but nope it was Jane. See? Red herring. Kinda. Probably.) like it was an obvious choice but then the reveal that it wasn't Uliyana would have been juicy

Oh, I also wished they had more of a clear consequence of time travelling at the end. Like I was holding my breath the entire time anticipating some sort of time-travel consequence

But

There was none

Which makes no sense because when you time travel and change the timeline, there's gonna be consequences. It's sort of an important story beat to have (one example I can think of right now is the first Life is Strange game with Max's time travelling powers and how the more she uses her powers, the more fuckery shit happens where you either watch your best friend die to save an entire town or sacrifice an entire town to save your best friend). I wish they gave us something, because then it would definitely help set us up for the next movie since apparently people are saying Rise of Red is supposed to be a two parter? Or maybe not have it so blatantly obvious but still have something there to let us know "oh, something ain't right" (like I get QoH having that drastic change is already like its own thing, but idk give us more. I want more.)

ANYWAYS again, idk, just word vomiting don't mind me

[bluetortoist]

Time to show off some doodles of one of my OCs after binging as much batman series as I could, including BTAS, The Batman 2004, Brave and the Bold, the movies, etc. I fell in love with the Gotham Rogues all over again.

I've already made a few OCs, but to start, this one is Mavis. She is a harpy who imprinted on Penguin at birth and considers him her father. He kept her to be, at first, just as another loyal, powerful pet, but soon came to see her like a daughter to him too. Thus, a bird family in crime.

Last pic was my first ever sketches of chick Mavis and Penguin. You could tell I was still trying to figure out how to draw pengie haha!

Penguins note in full:

Note #5 - "Any news of strange phenomena that could be connected to the child's existence came up short. None of my connections had any clue of where she could have came from. The only hypothesis I could come up with is, admittedly outlandish, but not completely out of the question (Im not blind to some of the inhuman things that happen in this city). I refer to beings called 'harpies' from the mythologies. Stories of bird-like women who lead men of all kinds to their deaths, or who torture the damned souls in the underworld. All utter nonsense, but everytime I look at the child, I cant help but think there is something otherworldly about her."

Below is a bit more stuff about her

Name: Mavis (Unofficial) Cobblepot

Age: About 18-19

Gender: Cis Female

Identifies: Pan/Demi

Race: Harpy

Current Living: Gotham City

Allegiance: Neutral Evil - True Neutral

Powers/Abilites:

• Hypnotic Voice: Uses her singing voice to charm and manipulate the minds of anyone in her range into becoming submissive to her under the delusions of adoration for her.

• Typical features as like that of a bird of prey, keen eyesight 10× more than humans, Flying in silence, Can see in the dark, Heightened hearing. etc

• Strong, sharp, powerful talons for feet that can be used not only for attack, but for stealth capturing people (sometimes it's how she carries Penguin in means of escape).

• She is also efficient in knife combat and close quarter combat (for when shes in a finite space too small to fly around in), Knows how to use a gun, but rarely ever uses or carries one.

History: Oswald found her as an egg under mysterious circumstances, not knowing how she even got here or where she came from. Because she imprinted on him already, he decided to raise her and form her into another, stronger one of his loyal pet birds. However, as much as he tried keeping her under the conditions of a pet, Mavis still ended up seeing him as her father. And eventually Oswald, who denied for the longest, felt the same way as well.

Notes/Quirks: Mavis struggles a bit with human speech due to Harpies having different vocal chords than humans, so she was mute along with saying simple sentences for a good half of her life; she is very intelligent however and understands human language, can read and write very well, excels in math and business skills, just takes time talking./ She molts once a year and lasts over 2-3 weeks; it's very itchy and irritating and makes her grumpy the whole time./ She is a carnivorous bird and her favorite to eat is liver.

[goingbuggy]

I’m coming from a place of debate because your view on uta is really intelligent and thought out, so I’d like to discuss a little from the other side and see your thoughts if you feel like it

Uta herself felt so self insert oc, very Mary sue, like especially at first glance. Oh I’m part of the red hair pirates and shanks daughter and the best diva in the world! Luffys childhood friend and I’m super powerful soo super powerful I could destroy the world!

I mean yes she is fleshed out a bit more and fun to watch. Don’t get me wrong I like the movie and her design is cute and fun. But it still feels like every middle school one peice fans 500 page fanfiction come to life

Also just where she was put in the universe as a red haired pirate is kinda irksome, small details being all the red hair pirates are usally men, non devil fruit users and big detail being shanks was adamant to having no kids on his ship. . But it’s totally cool to have all those things if it’s her.

I also kinda feel Uta existence kinda cheapens shanks relationship with luffy. And that sours my view of her a lot think, and quite a few other people’s.

I get your point -- her integration into canon is a bit hamfisted -- but honestly, you could argue the same for Sabo, and he plays a far larger role in canon than her, so. Idk. I can shrug off the whole "retroactively important character" thing pretty easily. And sure, she has the potential to be extremely powerful, but I think the limitations placed on her ability effectively prevent her from seeming too OP. Exhaustion is her main weakness, and she's shown to not really have a lot of stamina. Uta World isn't even sustainable in general, either; no human can overextend their body and mind in such a way to maintain it for forever. (Unless you're Blackbeard, I guess, and you don't sleep, but... I digress.)

Also, RHP members not having devil fruits doesn't make it a rule for being part of the crew. It's a cool idea -- especially now that we know devil fruit users are at a natural disadvantage against the rising tides -- but it's never been established as intentional. Same with the RHP all being men. These are commonalities, but I don't think that makes them rules which Uta "breaks." And yeah, it does seem strange in hindsight that Shanks would say Luffy is too young and yet choose to take in Uta, but Shanks was in a tight spot regardless. Where would Uta have gone, if he chose not to take her in? Factor that in with her circumstances being so similar to his, and I think it makes sense why he would keep her on his ship. She is an exception for logical reasons.

I'm curious as to how Uta "cheapens" Shanks' relationship with Luffy, too; Shanks clearly inspired many different kids on many different islands. Luffy may be the protagonist, and Shanks certainly does care for him, but he also cares for the new era as a whole, which includes the newest generation. Him encouraging Uta to become a singer for the betterment of the world and the pursuit of her dream is very in line with his character. If anything, it heightens our understanding of his goals.